The Resistance
by antmuzak
Summary: Sequel to Black Holes and Revelations. Ophelia Pomfrey, nineteen year old healer in training, is pregnant with Severus Snape's child. Bitter and angry about his betrayal and murder of Dumbledore, she knows she can't trust anyone anymore. Nevertheless, she sets out with the trio to find the horcruxes that will end Voldemort's wrath. OC/Snape, Harry/Ginny, Hermione/Ron. Please R&R!
1. Uprising

"**_Love is our resistance_**

**_They'll keep us apart and they _**

**_won't stop breaking us down_**

**_Hold me_**

**_Our lips must always be sealed"_**

**_-"Resistance", Muse_**

**The Resistance**

**Chapter One**

Ophelia Pomfrey could pinpoint the exact moment that Mrs. Weasley began to treat her differently. She could also tell you exactly when her baby bump began to show. Granted, these two moments were interchangeable.

Ron, Hermione, and Harry were the only ones who knew that she was pregnant, at least, in the beginning. Harry was the only one who knew who the father was.

There had been a rather uncomfortable period where Ron hadn't spoken to Ophelia except to tell her when dinner was, or that he and Ginny were going to go play a game of Quidditch with the twins.

Mrs. Weasley had been so generous and warm, upon Ophelia's initial arrival. She'd cooed about how lovely it was to see her, and was she still seeing that secret admirer of hers? The woman had tended to Ophelia, telling her that it was too bad that she had such a terrible flu.

When the morning sickness had subsided, Ophelia took to helping out around the house. The aching feeling of guilt drove her to overcompensate, but Mrs. Weasley, although trying to be just as friendly and accepting as only two weeks ago, remained distant and awkward.

Some nights, Ophelia fell asleep, rubbing just under her stomach, thinking how strange and alien it was that a living thing was slowly growing inside her. She hadn't had any thoughts to terminate the pregnancy- that would be just one more thing she'd have to hide from the people she cared about-, but all the same, she felt no sudden sense of maternal joy.

Whatever person was inside her, they were the closest thing she had to Severus Snape, and, for that, she resented them.

Other nights, Ophelia forgot about her pregnancy altogether and fell into a violent storm of tears and uncontrollable shaking.

For the last year since Ophelia had become friends with Harry and his friends, she'd wanted to be strong and brave like them, but she knew she'd always be so much weaker than them.

No matter how she tried to look at it, her life was falling apart, and there was only one person to blame.

* * *

><p>"Snape."<p>

"Hmmph. What?!" Ophelia raised her head off of the kitchen table, looking confused at the Weasleys who were deep in conversation around her.

"Oh, dear, you've fallen asleep at the table again," Mrs. Weasley tutted. Her tone wasn't cold, but there was a subtle hint of disappointment in it.

"We were just talking about the news. Hogwarts has a new headmaster."

"What? Who?" Ophelia rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.

"Snape," Ron grimaced.

"Oh," Ophelia's lower lip quivered, but she held back anything that was fighting to come out, "I suppose that...makes sense."

The Weasleys gave her a skeptical look in unison.

"I only meant, from You Know Who's point of view," Ophelia mumbled.

There was toast on the table, and blackberry jam. She looked at it in disgust.

Two days ago, she'd thrown the jam jar, that she'd kept since Christmas, against the Weasley's shed wall.

"Ophelia, tomorrow is the big day. Are you still up for it?"

Ophelia frowned. She was tired of being treated this way.

"I'm barely a month in, I'm perfectly capable."

Mrs. Weasley blinked heavily, her mouth slightly popped open.

"I'm sorry," Ophelia sighed. She was almost ready to blame mood swings, but that was a blatant lie.

"I'm just worried, about a lot of things."

"Fair enough," George smiled, and Fred winked, "you're a ticking time bomb."

"Well there's that," Ophelia gave them a glare, "and then there's all this business about collecting Harry."

"Well we're all nervous, dear, but we've prepared as much as we can. Dawlish 'let slip' that Harry will be moved a different day. That will give us an advantage, I hope."

Ophelia nodded, staring out the window at the rolling hills of Ottery St. Catchpole, but didn't feel reassured in the slightest.

She knew that Voldemort was much too clever for them, and so was Snape.

* * *

><p>"Today's the day," Hermione breathed. Her voice quivered only slightly, but her eyes were hard and determined.<p>

She and Ophelia were sitting on the small deck coming out of Ron's room. He and Ginny were downstairs, getting ready with the others.

"I'll be happy to see Harry, but..."

"I know," Hermione nodded firmly, "we have to start thinking of the future."

"I know the wedding is coming up, and everything else. But I'm anxious."

"We all are," Hermione sighed, patting her friend's back, "there's...so much happening right now."

Hermione's eyes traveled to Ophelia's baby bump. Ophelia knew that her friend was trying her best to be supportive, but, like everyone, wanted to know what had happened.

Everyone wanted to know how Ophelia goody-two-shoes Pomfrey had ended up pregnant at nineteen years old.

"Listen, Hermione...I want to tell everyone...who the father is, but...,"

"It's your body, Ophelia, do what you want. We're just concerned for you."

"Harry knows," Ophelia blurted out, blushing.

"Why does Harry know?" Hermione furrowed her brows.

"It's a long story, it has nothing to do with trust," Ophelia faltered.

It might have something to do with trust. Everything had to do with trust now.

Ophelia wasn't sure what to say.

"But I'm afraid that you're not going to like me very much if I tell you everything."

"Ophelia, we're your friends, we'll like you no matter what."

Ophelia bit her lip sharply, tasting the subtle copper taste slowly ease into her mouth. Her lower lip was teared to bits at this point.

"Well I'm going to go check on the Polyjuice potion one more time. Meet you downstairs?"

Ophelia nodded distractedly.

Here we go, she thought.

* * *

><p>"You're taking <em>him<em> over me?!" Ophelia cried, gesturing at Mundungus Fletcher, the slimy little man next to her.

"Sorry sweetheart," Mad Eye Moody growled, "we can't risk anything in your condition, or something like that."

Ophelia sighed defeatedly.

"It's fine," Ginny grabbed her friends hand, drawing her onto the couch, "if anything goes wrong, we're going to need your healing skills."

"Right," Ophelia shook her head bitterly.

Moments later, Ophelia watched her friends leave her, and felt an empty aching in her chest.

"Mrs. Weasley, Ginny," Ophelia took a deep breath, "after all this, I'm going to tell you everything."

Mrs. Weasley's face flushed and she shook her head, rapidly distracting herself with tidying up the house.

"That's really not necessary, dear-"

"No, I want to," Ophelia assured the woman, "you've been so kind, having me in your household, and I don't want you to feel that I'm taking advantage of your or lying to you. Besides, what I have to tell you is probably a lot more important than you would think."

Mrs. Weasley sighed.

"Well, if that's what you want, dear, then we will be happy to hear you out."

With that, Mrs. Weasley muttered something about preparing them some dinner, and went into the kitchen.

"It's okay," Ginny smiled, "come on, let's help make dinner."

* * *

><p>There was a crash, and the girls thundered down the stairs.<p>

Hagrid was collapsed on the carpet, and Harry was bent over, breathing heavily.

Ginny rushed to his side, looking like she might wrap her arms around him, but held back. Ophelia knew her friend was struggling to remember that she and Harry had broken up in June.

"Harry? You are the real Harry?" Mrs. Weasley demanded, wiping her hands on her dress, "What happened? Where are the others?"

Ophelia gulped, wondering the same thing. She knelt next to Hagrid, feeling his pulse and nodding.

"What do you mean? Isn't anyone else back?" Harry wondered.

"You're the first," Ophelia muttered, "help me here, Ginny, won't you?"

Hagrid ran a hand over his face, making an incoherent grumbling sound.

"How you feeling Hagrid?" Ophelia smiled softly at the big man.

Harry hastily explained what had happened.

"Don't have any brandy, do you Molly?"

Ophelia gave Hagrid a sceptical look.

"For medical purposes," he defended himself.

Mrs. Weasley went off to look for some, and Ginny explained that Ron and Tonks should have been back by now, but had missed their portkey.

"I'm they'll be back soon enough," Ginny added, though sounding uncertain.

Ophelia shook her head and searched through her healing materials.

"Mum!" Ginny shouted, and suddenly Lupin was supporting an unconscious George, and dragging him inside.

Ophelia ran to his side, bringing him to the couch and lying him down.

"What's wrong with him?!" Mrs. Weasley squealed, seeing her son covered in blood.

"It's his ear," Ophelia immediately realized.

She wiped the blood off his face and searched for bandages and ingredients for a poultice to ease the bleeding.

"We've been betrayed," Lupin shook his head, panting, "They knew we were coming."

They all shared a look of dread, and Ophelia pressed her lips firmly together as she tended to George. She had a good idea of who had done it, but she wouldn't bring it up now.

"Will George be okay?" Harry asked Ophelia, kneeling next to her.

"He can't get his ear back, if that's what you mean," she sighed, "but he'll be alright soon enough."

"Hi by the way," Harry greeted wearily, "looks like you're starting to show."

"Yeah, looks like it," Ophelia avoided his eyes, pressing her poultice harder against George's ear.

"Do they know?"

Ophelia squeezed her eyes shut, "not yet."

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but Lupin came by, looking at George in pity.

"Snape's work," he said.

"Snape?!" Harry nearly choked.

Ophelia's eyes sprang open, and her hand began to shake.

The others began to come in, when Fred ran to his twin brother's side.

"How do you feel, Georgie?" Mrs. Weasley whispered, brushing her son's hair out of his eyes. George was just beginning to wake.

"Saintlike," George murmured.

"What?"

"Saintlike...I'm holey...geddit?"

Fred laughed dryly, and Mrs. Weasley burst into tears.

"Hey," George reached for Ophelia's hand, "thought I wasn't your type, Pomfrey."

Ophelia smiled fondly, "I don't think I have a type anymore, Weasley."

"Well, thanks for helping me out," George muttered, drifting back to sleep.

Ophelia sighed.

"Trust me, it's the least I can do."

* * *

><p>They sat patiently, sitting on assorted furniture and the floor, faces all looking gaunt and expectingly at Ophelia.<p>

They were still aching after Mad Eye's death, and she could sense that they were tired, upset, and slightly mistrusting of each other.

Certainly they were going to hate Ophelia after she told them the truth, but if she waited any longer, she would get herself into even more trouble.

Lupin cleared his throat, "Ophelia, I'm sure whatever you have to say is important, but we all have things we must do. Bill and I want to collect Mad Eye's body..."

"I'm sorry," Ophelia sighed, "it's just hard to explain..."

"I want to start by saying," Ophelia stood, and looked each person in the eye, "that I admire and respect every one of you, all for different reasons."

There was an uncomfortable mutter across the room.

"And I know that whatever little trust you had in me before, will be gone soon. So right now, while it still means anything, I just want to let you know..."

She rested her hand under her stomach.

"That I'm sorry, and that I didn't mean to hurt any of you..."

Her eyes sought out George, and the bandages that bound the side of his head.

"Did you betray us?" Ron could no longer keep his question in.

Ophelia bit her lip.

"Shh," Harry elbowed Ron in the side.

Ophelia wanted to hug Harry Potter and thank him for everything, but she knew she had to continue.

"This baby...," she took a deep breath, "whoever they are...they're father isn't a good man."

She looked at the floor, trying to muster some courage. If only she were half as brave as any person in the room.

"I made a mistake. I guess I was young and naive. I...still don't understand a lot of what happened, but...I fell in love with a man who told me that he wasn't perfect. I knew that, but I...," Ophelia saw the confusion on everyone's faces, "but I didn't understand what he meant."

"Severus Snape isn't perfect," Ophelia added, refusing to see her friends' reactions, "turns out he's far from it," she laughed darkly, "I don't know what happened. But I loved him."

I still do, she thought to herself.

"You're telling me," Ron gapped, "that the man who knocked you up, is the same man who knocked my brother's ear off?"

"He killed Dumbledore," Ginny's voice quivered, looking betrayed and disgusted.

Mrs. Weasley's face grew very very pale.

"Hey," Harry stood up, "she didn't know. She was there with me that night."

The room grew quiet, and Harry held Ophelia's hand tightly.

"She fell for a man who manipulated her trust, and now she's stuck here, pregnant and alone. We've all done things we regret, I know I have," he glared at everyone, "but we're all in this together, no matter what. I think Ophelia deserves some sympathy and understanding."

"Of course," Hermione agreed, though her face rather pale, "we don't blame you Ophelia."

Mrs. Weasley ran to Ophelia side, throwing her into a fierce hug.

"I'm so sorry," the woman whispered, "I never should have judged you."

"I'm going to sodding blow that man to pieces,"George spat.

Lupin shook his head, and Tonks gave Ophelia a look of sympathy.

"What a prick," Bill's hands turned into fists.

Ophelia gave them all a small nod of gratitude, but her heart was beating even faster.

They don't understand, she thought, they don't even know what happened. Ophelia wasn't manipulated or coerced. Something was wrong.

_"Dear Ophelia,_

_There is so much I need to tell you. But you must understand that this is a very complicated situation: so many things and people are at risk. I can't tell you it all now. But you must understand that, in my past, I made a lot of mistakes that I am still paying for now. I'm trying to make things right, but, in order to do that, I must keep my secrets as secrets._

_I know you're looking for me right now. I didn't stand you up on purpose, but I needed to leave. I don't know exactly how tonight is going to turn out, but I can assure you that it will be difficult for the both of us. I can't force you to do anything, and I wouldn't want to. But I hope that I can count on you to do one thing: trust me. I know I'm a hard man to love, and especially a hard man to trust._

_But no matter what you see or hear in the next few days, know that it's not what it seems. I love you,_

_Severus Snape."_

She'd memorized the letter.

So what now? Ophelia wondered, how was she going to move on?


	2. Resistance

"**_Love is our resistance_**

**_They'll keep us apart and they _**

**_won't stop breaking us down_**

**_Hold me_**

**_Our lips must always be sealed"_**

**_-"Resistance", Muse_**

**The Resistance**

**Chapter Two**

"Watch out," Harry caught Ophelia's elbow as she passed him, "Mrs. Weasley's asking questions."

Ophelia frowned, wiggling her elbow loose, "what kind of questions?"

Harry shrugged, "Ron says she wants to know why we're not returning to Hogwarts."

"I don't see why that concerns me, I've graduated."

"Yeah well, she knows you don't plan on living at the Weasleys forever. And she knows you're in on what we're planning."

Ophelia pursed her lips and nodded, "I'll tell her what I have to, don't worry."

Harry smiled, gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder, and shuffled off.

Ophelia sighed.

Ever since she'd told everyone the truth about her and Snape, things had been quite different.

It was nice that Mrs. Weasley had stopped treating her like a delinquent, but now everyone was acting as if she were wounded or a child.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione, seemed to be the only consistent ones.

"Ophelia, dear," Molly Weasley's voice came from around the corner.

Ophelia held back a groan, and turned around, forcing a smile.

"How are you?" Mrs. Weasley's eyes immediately darted to the subtle bump that was barely visible under the loose dress shirt Ophelia was wearing.

"I'm fine, thank you," Ophelia nodded, "and yourself?"

It was like they'd bumped into each other on the street.

"Oh, I'm fine, of course. Just rather busy with all this planning for the wedding," the frazzled woman threw her hands up in mock defeat.

"Well if you need any help, Mrs. Weasley-"

"Oh, really dear, you must call me Molly. You're like family to me now."

Ophelia smiled, this time genuinely.

"Speaking of family," Molly added hastily, and Ophelia sensed nothing good, "how's your mother? She's okay with you being here? For the summer, that is?"

This was the conversation Harry had warned Ophelia about.

"Yes, she knows I need a break," Ophelia put carefully, kneading her hands and trying to think of an escape plan.

"Well then I'm sure she'll be glad to see you again in September?" Molly stated, with a hint of inquiry.

"Well I'm not quite sure what my plans are at the moment, Molly. With recent developments, that is."

Molly was staring at the baby bump again, but her eyes darted back up to Ophelia.

"Yes, of course. I'm only asking because Harry, Ron, and Hermione have it in their heads that they're not returning to Hogwarts next year," Molly laughed dryly, as if daring Ophelia to not laugh along.

"Well..." Ophelia thought out a diplomatic answer, "I can't speak for them, but..."

"Surely, as someone who loves education so much, you wouldn't encourage this attitude?"

Ah. There was her way out.

"But Molly, Hogwarts isn't what it used to be. I hardly think Harry, Ron, or Hermione could get the education they deserve, at least not in its current situation."

Ophelia gave Molly a meaningful look and received a confused one in return.

"With Snape as Headmaster? They're better off sticking to what they need to do."

Molly looked as if she might question her further, but held back. Her face turned to a sympathetic pout.

"Well, I suppose you're right about Snape. But I'm still not sure about this whole mission Dumbledore has left them."

Ophelia nodded slowly. Neither was she.

* * *

><p>"Happy Birthday, Harry!" Ophelia grinned and gave her friend a hug.<p>

They were seated around the table. Molly had promised not to fuss, but, of course, had lied.

"Oh Ophelia, I thought you were going to get me some sort of weird plant or something," Harry breathed.

"Disappointed?"

"No, of course not," Harry chuckled, holding up the bottle of wine she'd gotten him.

"Trust me, it's the best."

"I do," Harry said simply, but the words weighed heavily with Ophelia.

As the finished exchanging gifts, there was a knock on the door.

"Minister?! I-"

"Sorry to intrude," Ophelia could hear the voice of the Minister for Magic just outside the door and held in a gasp.

"I was wondering if I may have a private audience with Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ophelia?"

"Well," Mrs. Weasley looked back at the four, who had paused around the birthday cake, "o-of course."

She moved out of the doorway and let him in.

Everyone else filtered out and the four sat down uncomfortably on the couch.

"I'm here, as you might have guessed, with the will of Albus Dumbledore."

There was a stirring as they realized what was happening.

"First, for Ronald Billius Weasley-"

Ophelia raised her eyebrows at Ron's full name.

"In Dumbledore's words..._I leave my Deluminator, in the hope that he will remember me when he uses it."_

Scrimgeour passed the instrument to Ron, who's eyes were wide with shock.

Ophelia frowned. Why would Dumbledore leave such an important tool to Ron? It wasn't that Ron wasn't worthy of it, but it seemed unusual.

Scrimgeour took careful note of how Ron and the others reacted, and returned to his papers.

He cleared his throat.

"Now..._For Miss Hermione Jean Granger, I leave my copy of _The Tales of Beedle the Bard, _in the hope that she will find it entertaining and instructive."_

The minister placed a small children's book in Hermione's hands.

Hermione took a deep breath and inspected, careful to leave her expression neutral. They didn't want the Minister for Magic suspicious of them.

"_To Harry James Potter, I leave the Snitch he caught in his first Quidditch match at Hogwarts, as a reminder of the rewards of perseverance and skill."_

Ophelia concentrated on the Snitch that weighed down Harry's palm. Interesting.

There was an awkward silence.

Ron fiddled with the Deluminator, Hermione sniffled, and Harry tapped the outside of the Snitch.

"However," Scrimgeour finally spoke, "Dumbledore left you another bequest, Potter."

Harry shuffled forward in his seat.

"What is it?"

"The sword of Godric Gryffindor."

"So where is it?" Harry demanded.

"Unfortunately, the sword was never Dumbledore's to begin with. It's an important historical artefact that belongs-"

"To Harry," Hermione insisted, no longer sniffling. She had that look of determination on her face that Ophelia admired.

Hermione explained how the sword had chosen Harry in the Chamber of Secrets, but the Minister disregarded her.

Harry looked as though he might interrupt, but the Minister continued, now turning to Ophelia.

"You were not included in Albus Dumbeldore's will," the man began, tilting his head to inspect her.

Ophelia had figured so far.

"Then why, may I ask, Minister, am I here?" Ophelia delicately folder her hands on her lap, sitting up straight.

"The new Headmaster of Hogwarts- Severus Snape, asked me to give this to you," the Minister handed her a bag.

Ophelia ran her fingers along the bag.

"Do I need to open this here?" She asked carefully.

"Do you have any reason not to?" The Minister raised an eyebrow.

What a terrible man.

Ophelia slipped out the object: a book. It was her copy of _Pride and Prejudice _that she must have left in Snape's quarters.

"Why would Severus Snape ask me to give you this?"

Ophelia stared the Minister straight in his eyes, and answered firmly.

"I left rather abruptly, I must have left this in my quarters".

"But why wouldn't your mother pass it on to you?"

Ophelia flushed, trying to concentrate.

"Erm...my mother and I don't get along very well at the moment," she answered, now looking at the ground.

"Interesting," the Minister clicked his tongue.

"Yes, enthralling," Harry finally snapped, "are you done interrogating us?"

Scrimgeour stood, glaring.

"What, doesn't the ministry have anything more important to do than question minors on gifts given to them by a man they've only just lost?"

"You go to far, boy."

"Harry," Ophelia warned.

"What about all the muggles and muggle-borns who are dying right now?"

"It's time you learned some respect!"

"It's time you earned some," Harry spat.

"Mate, do you _want_ to end up in jail?" Ron hissed.

Harry stepped back, letting the Minister storm out.

Harry walked past Molly and Arthur who had come back in the room to see what was happening, and ran upstairs.

Ron sighed, grabbed his Deluminator and ran up after his friend.

Ophelia flipped through her book, but there were no secret messages. Nothing.

She ripped one page out, tucked it in her pocket, and tossed the book into the fireplace.

Hermione gasped, "Ophelia, are you sure-?"

"Oh, I'm sure," Ophelia glowered, watching the flames lick the pages into ashes.

* * *

><p>Ophelia awoke, drenched in cold sweat and breathing heavily. She wanted to scream.<p>

She'd dreamt of watching Dumbledore fall of the Astronomy Tower again. Every time she had this dream, she saw every detail, every little movement of Snape's hands, and his expressions.

She'd thought about that night over and over again, but no matter how much she tried, she couldn't find a way to justify Snape's actions, and was beginning to lose any desire to do so.

"You okay?" Hermione whispered, turning over in her bed that she was sharing with Ginny.

Ophelia was sleeping on a mattress on the floor.

"I'm fine," she whispered back. Lies, of course, but she was tired of being asked that question.

Today was the day of Bill and Fleur's wedding, but the sun was only just creeping up over the hills. Hermione rolled back into bed.

Ophelia felt a small warmth in her chest at the thought that Hermione would wake up just to see if she was okay.

She lay her head back down on her pillow and steadied her breathing.

They'd planned to leave tomorrow, early in the morning before anyone could stop them. She'd spent hours planning with Hermione on what to bring. The girls hadn't told the boys about Hermione's special bag, which Ophelia had stocked with all the necessary healing ingredients and materials she could get her hands on, while Hermione had stuffed with many books on horcruxes.

As the sun broke through the window, warming Ophelia's pale cheeks, she heard the sounds of the Weasleys waking.

She wanted to be happy for Bill and Fleur who were, after all, a beautiful couple. But something about the union of two people who loved each other just wasn't settling well with her.

The truth was, that no matter how much the Weasleys wanted to paint Severus Snape as a nasty, murderous man who had taken advantage of poor, sweet Ophelia Pomfrey, Ophelia knew that wasn't how it was.

Severus Snape was a man full of secrets and insecurities who had loved Ophelia, and she him.

Something had happened that night that Ophelia wasn't sure she would ever understand. But she knew that she wasn't innocent, and that the sooner she left the Weasley's home, the better.

* * *

><p>"Molly, let me help you with that," Ophelia took a large vase that Molly was struggling with and walked to the tent where the wedding was taking place in less than an hour.<p>

She was wearing her same pine-green dress she always wore, though felt slightly self conscious now at how tight it was around her stomach.

"Ginny, you look gorgeous," Ophelia set the vase down and got a good look of the youngest Weasley in her gold dress.

"A vision, would you say?" Ginny teased.

Ophelia smiled, "have you seen Harry around?"

Ginny's face fell. A tender subject for her.

"He's around here somewhere, disguised as a Weasley."

Ophelia nodded a goodbye and scanned the crowd of gathering people.

"Ophelia, you look wonderful!" Hermione greeted warmly.

"Thanks Hermione," Ophelia nodded, "hey do you have your seating plan yet?"

"Yes, why?"

"I dunno. Do you think it's a bit odd that Molly has me with George and some other Weasley cousins, and not with you, Harry, and Ron?"

Hermione shrugged, scanning the crowd distractedly.

"Not that odd, it's just for dinner. We'll see each other later."

"I suppose you're right."

* * *

><p>After the gorgeous ceremony and a light dinner, most people were making their way onto the dance floor, or socializing at their given tables.<p>

Ophelia sat down next to a man with curly red hair who she greeted with a silent smile.

"Looks like I'm the only girl at this table," she muttered.

"Looks like it," George sat on Ophelia's right, stretching his arm around her, "whatever shall I do?"

Ophelia rolled her eyes.

"Weird how only us two have red napkins, don't you think?" George snorted, inspecting his napkin, "did we do something wrong?"

"It _is_ weird...," Ophelia realized, "almost like they're conversation starters."

"Well I dunno about you, but I don't fancy talking about napkins," George yawned, "there are some Delacour girls I wouldn't mind dancing with."

"Yet, we _are_ talking," Ophelia murmured.

"Yeah, yeah. Well see you later, Pomfrey."

Ophelia nodded, grabbing the napkin and setting off to find Harry.

"Har- I mean _Barny_," Ophelia corrected herself, spotting Harry in his disguise, "can I have a word with you?"

"Sure," Harry patted the spot next to him, but he was distracted by a certain Weasley girl in gold.

"Ginny on your mind?"

"Wha-"

"Harry, you can't fool me. Don't worry about it, she still cares about you. Whatever happens next, she'll understand."

Harry sighed, "I suppose you're right. She just looks so...beautiful."

His face flushed and he turned back to his friend, "Sorry, what did you want to say?"

"Before Remus and Tonks got together, Molly was trying to get Tonks and Bill together, wasn't she?"

"Oh yeah," Harry chuckled, "that was terrible."

"Hmm," Ophelia fiddled with the red napkin, "and would you say Molly likes to play match maker with her children?"

"Well I recall a few times when she's nearly _pushed_ Ron into Hermione, so I'd have to say yes to that."

"Dear Merlin," Ophelia shook her head, "I think she's trying to get me and George together."

"What?!" Harry laughed, "now that I'd like to see."

Ophelia groaned, "look, I'm going to get out of here. See you around?"

"Sure."

* * *

><p>"Ophelia, dear," Molly Weasley's voice stopped Ophelia in her tracks. Dammit.<p>

"Aren't you going to be dancing?"

"Well, I-"

"Because, I thought maybe you and George could-"

"Molly," Ophelia began, "I really don't want to dance with George. He's great, but I'm not interested."

Molly opened her mouth to protest when silence fell upon the room.

"_The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming."_


	3. Undisclosed Desires

"**_Love is our resistance_**

**_They'll keep us apart and they _**

**_won't stop breaking us down_**

**_Hold me_**

**_Our lips must always be sealed"_**

**_-"Resistance", Muse_**

**The Resistance**

**Chapter Three**

Hermione was suddenly at Ophelia's side, grabbing her friend's hand, and calling out desperately for Ron and Harry.

The wedding guests were thrown into a frenzy, running past each other, and disapparating as quickly as they could.

Ophelia and Hermione ran into Ron just in time, all linking hands, as if creating an unbreakable chain.

Ophelia felt her heart beating so fast, it was the only thing she could hear. Her mind was blocking out all the screams, and her hands were shaking.

Where was Harry?

Hermione exchanged a look with Ophelia, and they understood each other. If they couldn't find Harry, they might have to take matters into their own hands. They didn't have much time.

But Harry ran around the corner, glancing at his friends, and then anxiously surveying the crowd of running people.

He's looking for Ginny, Ophelia thought.

"Ginny!" Harry shouted, but Lupin had grabbed the girl and was bringing her to safety.

"Harry, go!" The man yelled.

Harry stood for a short moment, collecting himself, but grabbed Ophelia's hand.

There was a strange sensation of shooting through a tube, and everything around them morphed into an unfamiliar setting.

_The streets of London?_ Ophelia wondered and as Hermione shoved her friend out of the path of a Muggle double decker bus, Ophelia realised that her assumption was, indeed, correct.

"Tottenham Court Road," Hermione explained, walking briskly.

Harry swallowed hard, and Ophelia could sense his pain. Leaving Ginny behind must have been very difficult for him.

"We need to find somewhere to change," Hermione added, her eyes searching at the little shops across the street.

A group of Muggle men who appeared to be drunk, whistled at Hermione and Ophelia.

Ophelia frowned, turning back to them.

"Why did they whistle at us? Does that mean something?"

One of them men winked at Ophelia and she gasped, turning back to face the road and blushing.

Hermione shook her head, and pointed at a cafe.

They walked in, approaching an empty table.

"But Hermione, I don't have my cloak or my clothes. I've left my rucksack at the Burrow."

Ophelia slid into the booth next to Harry.

"Not true," Hermione put carefully, eying the approaching waitress.

"What can I get for you lot?" The waitress was chewing a stick of gum.

"Four cappuccinos," Hermione said meekly, smiling half-heartedly.

Ron furrowed his brows in confusion, but Ophelia actually knew what Hermione had said.

Oddly enough, Snape had explained "espresso drinks" to Ophelia one day, as she'd been curious about something he'd muttered.

She shook her head, willing herself to forget.

Hermione lifted her tiny beaded back onto the table where they were sitting.

She explained how it held more than it appeared to, and Ophelia watched two large Muggles walk in, briefly catching her eye.

"So we'll get changed, and then we'll-"

Ophelia nudged Hermione's foot under the table, not taking her eyes off of the men.

"What?"

"Don't you think we ought to be going, Sally?" Ophelia turned to her friend, giving her a significant look.

Hermione raised her eyebrows, turning to look at the men as well.

Before anyone could really register what was going on, one of the men shot a spell at their table.

Ophelia dove down under the table, pushing Harry down with her.

Hermione shot a stunning spell at the man closest to them, but it missed and smashed the espresso machine.

Ophelia wasn't necessarily the best at offensive spells, but attempted a stunning spell herself, just missing.

Harry, an expert dueller, untangled himself from his friends, and fired at the taller man.

Ron and Hermione collaborated in battling the second man, while Ophelia slinked by and checked on the unconscious waitress.

One man fired a spell at Ophelia in between attacking Ron, but she jumped out of the way in time.

Harry's movements intensified, and he finally stunned the two men.

"How did they know we were here?" Ophelia breathed, kneeling over the taller man, feeling his pulse.

Harry shook his head; incredulous.

"Ron, turn off the lights and close the blinds," Harry commanded, trying to get control of the situation, "Hermione, can you try a memory spell? It's the best we can do."

Hermione nodded, and reluctantly whispered "_Obliviate"_, slowly easing the memories out the men.

Ophelia took a deep breath, looking at the men's faces. Odd, she thought. They were death eaters, people who wanted them dead, and yet, they looked so handsome and normal.

She wondered if they'd met Snape; if they'd been _friends_. She shuddered, wiping her clammy hands on her dress and getting up.

"I'm going to go change," she nodded at Harry, who was rubbing his temples.

She grabbed the jean dress that hermione had packed for her. It not her style, and a little big. She suspected it had belonged to Molly when she was younger and thinner. But it would do.

After she'd changed, in a bathroom through the back, Ophelia looked in the mirror.

Her eyes were worn and red, and her hair was tangled and frayed. Her mouth kept quivering, and her face was flushed. She hadn't looked like herself since June.

She ran a hand through her hair, and let out a harsh sob.

How much longer could she do this?

She looked back in the mirror.

_Ophelia,_ she told her reflection firmly, _get it together. They can't afford to have a wimp with them. You are strong, you are smart, you are talented. You aren't that girl you left behind at Hogwarts. You're going to be a mother. You need to forget the past._

She nodded, as if in agreement with herself, and ran back out to help the others.

* * *

><p>"Grimmauld Place?!" Ron hissed, as the four walked briskly down the street, "but Snape can get in there!"<p>

Harry gave Ophelia a concerned glance, but turned back to Ron.

"Your dad said it's protected with jinxes to keep him out. Besides, we don't have anywhere else."

Hermione was reluctant, but supportive.

"Let's go".


	4. United States of Eurasia

"**_Love is our resistance_**

**_They'll keep us apart and they _**

**_won't stop breaking us down_**

**_Hold me_**

**_Our lips must always be sealed"_**

**_-"Resistance", Muse_**

**The Resistance**

**Chapter Four**

When Ophelia awoke, it took her a minute to register where she was.

Her limbs groaned as she pushed herself into a sitting position, squinting at her surroundings. Dusty, torn curtains, faded, harsh portraits on the wall...

_Right._ She was at Grimmauld Place.

She turned and saw Hermione, fast asleep atop a nearby settee. Her arm was at her side, dangling just above the ground.

Below her was Ron, on the bed they'd made for him out of cushions. His hand was level with Hermione's.

Ophelia smiled grimly. At least there was something left to have faith in.

She looked around for any sign of Harry, but saw that he was missing. She stood up and brushed a layer of dust off of her rumpled dress. He was probably upstairs.

Ophelia ascended the staircase, listening to the echo of each empty step she took. When she reached the landing, she stopped and kneeled down.

There was a small hidden closet built into the wall, engraved in dusty Latin words.

She'd seen a few of these closets around the house, but she'd been too tired to get a good look at anything last night.

Looking behind her shoulder to make sure no one was watching her, Ophelia pulled open the closet.

She widened her eyes. It was difficult to see, but it appeared to be filled to the top with a collection of various items from around the house.

"_Lumos_," she whispered, lowering her wand to get a better look.

She frowned, chewing on the edge of her lip. There was a piece of a chandelier, various goblets, and necklaces- all very fancy and expensive. But then there were other items that seemed random and useless: ends of quills, balls of dust, torn up pages of books, shattered mirror pieces.

She was about to abandon her search, when something caught her eye.

It was an old photograph frame- black porcelain and engraved with snakes along the sides.

She flipped it over, and strained her eyes. There were about twenty Hogwarts students in old fashioned Slytherin robes.

Ophelia removed the photo from the frame and turned it over.

_Hogwarts Slytherins- Class of 1978_

She wanted to put it back, ignore it, and go look for Harry. But something stopped her.

She read through the faint handwriting: a list of names.

_Mason Avery..._no

She could only just make out the names.

_Narcissa Black, _what did the next one say?

_Eddie Burke._

She was reaching the end of the list when she saw what she was looking for.

_Severus Snape_.

She flipped the photo over once more, finding the spot where Snape supposedly stood.

There he was, at age 17. He certainly hadn't been the handsome man he was now, but he didn't look too bad: sharp cheekbones, sulky eyes, long hair in need of a trim.

Ophelia shook her head in disappointment at herself. That was enough now.

She shoved the photo back into the frame, throwing it back into the pile.

It made a loud clunking sound, and Ophelia turned around to find a Hermione and Ron, looking at her; concerned.

"You okay, Ophelia?"

"Yeah, yeah," Ophelia shrugged, closing the closet door, "I don't think we're alone, though."

"What do you mean?" Hermione hissed, clutching her wand tightly.

"Someone's been here recently. I think they still might be here," Ophelia gestured at the closet, "I'm not sure who."

Ron and Hermione shared a look.

"We'll worry about that later, do you know where Harry is?"

Ophelia shook her head, "Let's split up."

"I'll check over there," Ron nodded to the right, "Hermione can you check down there?"

"I'll look upstairs," Ophelia mumbled, though no one had asked her.

She climbed the next staircase, sending another layer of forgotten dust into a flurry around her.

Her hand trembled only slightly as she lifted her wand a little higher.

"Harry?" She whispered, glancing down the hallway.

The door at the end of the hallway was slightly ajar.

Ophelia crept to the door and pressed her hand against the wood, slowly giving it a push. If someone was in there, and it wasn't Harry, she would want to be as stealthy as possible. She wasn't an aggressive fighter, so her cunning and wit were her tools.

But, to Ophelia's joy, it _was_ Harry, sitting on the floor, pouring over a piece of parchment, his eyes lost in another world.

"Harry," Ophelia repeated gently.

"Hmm?" Harry looked up. Seeing Ophelia, his immediate reaction was to press his palms over the paper he'd been reading, as if to hide it from her.

"I didn't mean to disturb you," Ophelia glanced around the room, "but we've been looking for you."

The morning light was beginning to filter into the old house, though doing so rather stubbornly, as the thick curtains in the room were hindering it.

"This is Sirius' room?" Ophelia guessed, eyeing the Muggle posters of bikini-clad women, and strange looking cars.

"Y-yeah," Harry sniffed, standing up. He brushed his palms off on his jeans, and stuffing the paper into his pocket.

"I didn't mean to disturb you," Ophelia repeated, pursing her lips, "I really didn't."

She could sense that Harry had been having a moment to himself, something Ophelia understood more than anything. She understood his pain, his anger, his frustration, his sadness, and his joy at finding something from his past.

She wished she could explain to Harry how she could understand what he was going through, but she didn't want to come across as patronising or pitying. Harry wouldn't appreciate that.

"It's okay," Harry shrugged, and smiled faintly, "I just found an old letter from my mum to Sirius."

"This place is like an archeological dig," Ophelia observed, "you, know, where you dig around and you can find all sorts of treasures that tell you about the past."

She sat down on the edge of Sirius' bed. It was dusty, and quite uncomfortable.

"Then you put all the pieces together, and you learn something new about the world you live in. And the people who lived there," Ophelia added.

"Then they lock it away in a museum," Harry snorted

_"_Yes," Ophelia agreed.

They were silent for a moment- maybe a minute or maybe only a few seconds, but it was nice.

"Did you find anything?" Harry asked suddenly.

Ophelia lifted her head, frowning.

"What do you mean?"

"This is a Slytherin home. There's bound to be-"

"Harry," Ophelia snapped, "I'm not interested."

It made it easier to convince everyone, including herself, that her feelings for Snape, were that simple: no interest.

"I'm sorry," Harry sighed, "I know it's been hard for you."

Ophelia felt her hand gravitate toward her baby bump, hovering above it protectively- a habit of late.

"Don't worry about me, Harry. We've already got so much to worry about."

Harry laughed nervously.

"Yeah, I guess that's true."

There were no more words exchanged between the two, but words went unsaid. Harry understood how betrayed and conflicted Ophelia felt, and Ophelia understood how frustrated and lost Harry felt.

"Harry? Ophelia?" Hermione's voice came from outside the door.

"Oh! Thank Goodness!" Hermione cried, as she entered the room, "Ron, they're up here!"

"Well tell Harry he's a git!" Ron hollered back, bitterly.

"We've been-,"

"-Looking for me, I know," Harry finished, apologetically.

"Did you do this?" Hermione asked, looking around the room frantically, "what's been going on?"

"No," Harry shook his head, "It was like this when I got here. Someone searched it before us."

"Do you think?" Hermione looked over to where Ophelia was sitting. She didn't want to verbally suggest that Snape could have been here, but she meant it.

"Why would he?" Harry wondered, "he already knows everything that he learned in the Order. I doubt anything in Sirius' room would help him. He hasn't been in this room for years."

Ophelia imagined Snape rushing around the room, cloak billowing at his ankles. She pictured him tossing the room apart, searching for something, but she couldn't think what he would be looking for.

Then again, he was such a different man than she'd thought, maybe she just couldn't rely on her assumptions of his character anymore.

* * *

><p>"R.A.B," Harry explained, running his fingers along the sign to Sirius' brother's door.<p>

"Regulas Arcturus Black...," Hermione muttered, saving the name to her memory.

"The locket- do you reckon?"

"Only one way to find out."

"_Alohamora."_

The door creaked open, and the four walked inside.

The room was smaller than Sirius', and very green. It reminded Ophelia of Snape's quarters at Hogwarts: Slytherin designs and garnishes wherever possible, as if to ensure that there was no confusion as to where they belonged.

Those most struggling with their identity, were the first to cover that up, Ophelia thought.

They began to look around the room: Hermione shuffling through old newspaper articles, Ron looking under the bed and wardrobe, and Harry staring at a photograph.

"Wait...," Hermione gasped.

The others turned to her in confusion.

"What is it?"

"There was a locket in the cabinet in the drawing room...but we couldn't open it..."

"Harry? What was the name of that house elf of yours?" Ophelia spoke up, her eyes widening, as she too came to a realisation.

"Kreacher. You don't reckon...?"

"There are cupboards around the house, stacked with items, someone's been taking. They've been here recently..."

"I bet he knows where the locket is," Hermione decided, finishing Ophelia's thought.

* * *

><p>"Kreacher!" Harry yelled, summoning the strange little beast.<p>

Ophelia had seen house elves before, but never really interacted with one before. This one had a terrible grimace on his face.

"Master," he greeted Harry in a croaky voice, "Back in my Mistress's old house with the blood-traitor, the Mudblood, and this one," he reached out and poked Ophelia's bare kneecap.

"I forbid you to call anyone those horrible names," Harry commanded.

Ophelia shuffled a few steps from the creature. As a healer, she had great compassion, but she couldn't see the appeal. It was so...grouchy.

"I've got a question for you," Harry declared, "and I order you to answer it truthfully. Understand?"

"Yes, Master."

* * *

><p>Kreacher had told his tale, and set off to find the thief who'd stolen the locket, leaving the four wizards waiting, yet again.<p>

Ron and Hermione bickered for hours, while Harry paced around the kitchen, constantly looking out the windows, watching for Death Eaters.

Ophelia, who was much more patient than the others, still found herself in great discomfort. Until Kreacher returned, they were held hostage in this horrible place, and her pregnancy symptoms were worsening.

She often felt nauseous or dizzy, and spent most of her time sleeping or eating whatever was left in the kitchen. She knew that they were low on food, especially considering that they couldn't leave, but her appetite had increased so much, and she found it very difficult to control herself.

"I wish I could have a never-ending jar of blackberry jam," Ophelia mused aloud, lying on the settee one day.

Ron, who was seated in a chair nearby, snorted. He was playing with the deluminator Dumbledore had left him.

"You're acting just how my mum said you would," Ron threw the tool in the air and caught it, "I'm glad I'll never be pregnant."

Ophelia shot Ron a glare, but, as Hermione giggled, she couldn't help but join in.

She threw a cushion at the ridiculous Weasley boy.

"Someone's here!" Harry suddenly hissed.

The three others sat up, staring around frantically.

The dusty Mad Eye Moody rose up in the air, demanding to know if the intruder was Severus Snape.

"It's me, Remus!" a voice called.


	5. Guiding Light

"**_Love is our resistance_**

**_They'll keep us apart and they _**

**_won't stop breaking us down_**

**_Hold me_**

**_Our lips must always be sealed"_**

**_-"Resistance", Muse_**

**The Resistance**

**Chapter Five**

Lupin wearily sat down on the settee, inviting the others to join him. He brought out some butterbeers from under his cloak and offered them. Ophelia shook her head politely, reminding him that she couldn't have any in her state.

Lupin smiled at her faintly; a strange look on his face. Ophelia had never really talked to Lupin before, and felt slightly uncomfortable as his gaze lingered. She crossed her arms tightly, nodded and walked into the kitchen.

"No sign of Severus then?"

Ophelia had been searching for the kettle, when she bumped her head slightly against the counter.

"You alright in there?" Ron called.

"Fine," Ophelia responded, nursing the sore spot on her head. She secretly cursed Lupin for saying _his _name.

It was different when the trio spoke of him, as they referred to him as _Snape_. If they called him that, it made her picture an anonymous monster who couldn't touch her. But when she thought of...Severus...she thought of the man she'd grown to love, the man she'd spent hours pouring her heart out to. If she thought of him that way, she'd lose the last of her strength.

She heard them muttering seriously, probably about the state of the war, and how the others were doing. Ophelia knew she ought to be a part of the conversation, but she couldn't will herself to leave her safe spot, pouring water into the kettle.

She set the kettle on the stove, turned it on, and closed her eyes, leaning against the counter. She felt nauseous, as she did, almost every day now.

The kettle went off and Ophelia poured herself a mug of tea. She held it close, letting it turn the palms of her hands a rosy shade of red. She took a deep breath and walked back into the sitting room.

Whatever Lupin and the trio had been talking about before, it had been abandoned for awkward silence that hung in the air unpleasantly. Ophelia sat herself down on the seat of the chair Hermione was sitting on. She took a small sip of her tea.

"What about Tonks?" Hermione finally said. She looked confused and unsettled.

Ophelia glanced at everyone's expressions, trying to figure out what had been said.

"Tonks will be perfectly safe. She'll be at her parent's house...," Lupin trailed off, and his eyes met Ophelia again.

"Is everything alright...?" Hermione prompted gently.

Ophelia shifted in her seat, drinking the last of her tea. Why was Lupin staring at her like that?

"Everything is fine, thank you," Lupin looked back at Hermione, eyebrows raised at her boldness.

It was then that Ophelia understood.

"Tonks is going to have a baby," he revealed. Ophelia put her hands on her baby bump, frowning. Lupin did not sound enthusiastic, and he barely smiled as he was given congratulations by the trio. Ophelia remained pointedly silent.

"So do you accept my offer?"

Ophelia bit her lip, looking off to the hallway, so they wouldn't see the bitterness in her eyes. Oh, she definitely understood what was going on.

Harry cleared his throat.

"Just to be clear...you want to leave Tonks at her parents' house and come away with us?"

Ophelia could not take this. She concentrated fiercely on the pattern of the wallpaper, straining her eyes so hard, she felt tears building up.

But she couldn't remain silent as the argument went on.

"Remus," she implored, her voice not as gentle as Hermione's, but nearly as hostile as Harry's, "you don't understand what it's like. It's going to be so hard for her, especially during this war. No one should have to do this," she gestured to her bump, "alone."

But Remus would not be stirred.

"I'd never have believed this, the man who taught me to fight Dementors- a coward!" Harry spat.

With a _crack_! Remus was gone.

Tears rolled down Hermione's cheeks, as she looked at Harry and Ophelia in disbelief. She and Ron walked into the kitchen, muttering and shaking their heads.

"Harry," Ophelia sighed, feeling her exhaustion in her bones, "you shouldn't have done that."

"I did what I had to."

Harry refused to meet his friend's eyes. She could tell that, though he didn't regret what he'd done, he felt drained and betrayed.

"I could have convinced him," Ophelia disagreed, "you need to have more trust in me."

"I do trust you,Ophelia, I just don't trust him to do the right thing. He needed to be sent out of here. Hopefully he'll go back to Tonks and realise that he belongs there."

"Hopefully," Ophelia whispered.

* * *

><p>Ophelia shrieked as Kreacher returned with Mundungus at his side. She'd been sitting in the kitchen, pouring over a book about healing herbs, attempting to distract herself from yesterday's chaotic events.<p>

Immediately, Hermione disarmed Mundungus, and Ron tackled him to the floor.

After the thief had hollered enough, they'd released him. He swore a few times and cursed them for sending Kreacher after them. They ignored his complaints and explained their situation.

"Who was this woman?" Harry insisted, eyes narrowed.

"I dunno, some Ministry hag. Little woman, bow on top of 'er head...looked like a toad."

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ophelia all shared a shocked look.

_Umbridge_.


	6. Unnatural Selection

"**_Love is our resistance_**

**_They'll keep us apart and they _**

**_won't stop breaking us down_**

**_Hold me_**

**_Our lips must always be sealed"_**

**_-"Resistance", Muse_**

**The Resistance**

**Chapter Six**

The month of August had withered away into September, and Ophelia found herself struggling to fit into her everyday clothing.

Every now and then, one of the group would sneak out into the Muggle world for a little while. They had to be discrete, now that they knew that the Ministry was being run by Voldemort.

Fortunately for Ophelia, at present, no one knew who she was or that she was on the run with Harry and his friends. Because of this, she was able to leave the house more often as the others.

Of course, her friends were reluctant to see her go on her own, especially in her condition. Ophelia scoffed at this. She was only going on four months pregnant now; she wasn't a helpless thing.

It felt good to get out of the cramped apartment they'd been calling home. Lately, they'd been so wrapped up in planning how to get the locket from Umbridge, they'd barely slept or eaten. Kreacher's presence didn't help their moods, either.

Kreacher was constantly glaring at Ophelia from around corners, and sneaking around in the cupboards. Ophelia couldn't shake the shiver that he gave her.

* * *

><p>"Will that be all, dear?" The Muggle sales woman asked. She had greying hair and her lipstick was a bright magenta colour.<p>

"Erm yes," Ophelia smiled awkwardly, clasping her arms together in an attempt to hide her baby bump. She wasn't in the mood to discuss it.

"You know," the woman chatted while ringing up Ophelia's purchases, "there's a great maternity store, just down the road."

Ophelia's face flushed bright red.

"Oh, thank you...," she bit her lip.

"I don't mean to be nosey," the woman continued, "but aren't you a little young to be pregnant?"

Ophelia groaned inwardly.

"Yes, I am. How much is that?"

"Oh, your total comes to £26."

Ophelia sighed as she dished out the last of her Muggle money, and exchanged it for two blue plastic bags with a strange logo on them.

"Thanks," Ophelia muttered, heading straight back home.

She hated shopping. She'd always had trouble finding clothing that fit her slender, flat, body type, but now that she had a large bump coming in right under her stomach, it was even more difficult. She'd purchased several old-fashioned floral dresses, no longer able to wear button-up shirts and khaki pants.

It seemed silly of her to want to cover up her pregnancy, but she didn't want to discuss it with strangers: having to live it everyday was enough of a challenge.

Ophelia took careful note of everyone on the street before she made her way back into the house.

"_Severus Snape_?" The usual voice of the late Mad-Eye Moody accused her in a greeting.

Ophelia bit her lip to keep it from quivering.

"I did not kill you," she whispered, and walked into the kitchen, avoiding a pile of dust.

"Ophelia?" Harry's voice sounded from the living room.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think you could come here? There's something I want to talk you guys about."

Ophelia left her bags on the kitchen table, and slid herself onto the dusty armchair in the living room.

"I think we should go tomorrow," Harry announced, clapping his hands on his knees, taking a deep breath, and watching everyone's reactions.

Ron raised his eyebrows, and Ophelia pursed her lips, but, of course, Hermione had something to say about it.

"Tomorrow? You aren't serious, are you, Harry?"

"I am," Harry argued, "I don't think we're going to be much better prepared than we are now even if we skulk around the Ministry entrance for another month. The longer we put it off, the further Umbridge has chucked it away; the thing doesn't open."

Ophelia nodded slowly. Harry was right. They couldn't just hide in this apartment forever, they needed to take action.

"All right," Ron said, "let's say we go for it tomorrow...I think it would be just me and Harry."

"Oh, don't start that again! I thought we'd settled this."

"Well then...," Ron looked at Ophelia, nervously, "then maybe just us three."

Hermione wasn't so quick to disagree this time.

Ophelia's eyebrows furrowed in frustration, and she crossed her arms.

"Leave me behind? Why- because I'm pregnant? Or is it just because I'm so useless?"

"Ophelia," Harry snapped, "be reasonable! We appreciate everything you do for us, but what are we going to do if something happens...?"

"Like what?" Ophelia spat.

"There's something else...," Hermione added gently, "the effects of the Polyjuice Potion are...unpredictable, when it comes to pregnancies. It's not safe."

Ophelia sat back, her arms still crossed, but her face relaxed. Regardless of what Ron and Harry said, Hermione was right: she couldn't risk this.

"So you want me to just stay here with Kreacher?" she muttered.

"We'll need your healing skills, if one of us comes back injured," Hermione offered meekly.

Ophelia sighed. She was sick of everyone's pity.

"Alright, I'll have my materials ready," she shrugged, "I'm going to sleep now."

Ophelia had taken to sleeping on a mattress in the kitchen, just to get away from the others.

She sat herself down on the mattress, hugging her knees, and looked over to her right where she'd stored what personal items she'd brought with her. The page she'd ripped from her copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ was sitting atop a few old sweaters that she couldn't fit anymore.

Ophelia lay back in her makeshift bed, and began to scheme.

* * *

><p>"Good luck," Ophelia hugged Hermione, and her gaze lingered bitterly, "don't get caught."<p>

"We won't," Hermione assured her, but, the truth was, there was no way of knowing what would happen.

The trio double checked that they had all their materials with them, gave Ophelia one last glance, and apparated away.

"Hot roll, Miss?" Kreacher murmured, offering her a plate.

The house elf had slowly grown on Ophelia, these last few days. It may have been that, although he was rather creepy, he treated Ophelia like a real person, instead of a bird with a broken wing.

"Thank you, Kreacher," Ophelia took one and stuffed her face, barely tasting the food as she consumed it. Unfortunately, she was ravenously hungry these days.

"I'll have a nice steak and kidney pie ready for when they come back," Kreacher muttered, nodding to himself, "yes, I will."

"That's awful nice of you, Kreacher," Ophelia smiled, watching the house elf creep off upstairs.

When Ophelia was sure that he had left, she took a deep breath. She knew what she must do now.

* * *

><p>Ophelia tried to act as natural as possible as she walked through the main level of the Ministry of Magic.<p>

She was wearing a short skirt and blouse, which was lose enough to hide her baby bump. She was also wearing a pair of rather tall high heels, which she was having difficulty walking in.

"Excuse me," Ophelia put on a sweet smile and made her voice as polite as could be, "I'm a new intern here, could you please tell me where I could find...," she pretended to check a piece of parchment, "a Mr. Yaxley?"

The security guard who stood in Ophelia's way, barely blinked as he inspected Ophelia.

For a moment, Ophelia worried that he might ask her for identification, but the man simply gave her curt directions, and moved out of the way.

Ophelia hid her relief, and searched across the sea of people, making sure that Harry and the others were nowhere to be seen.

She stopped at a giant golden fountain in the centre of the room. She ran her fingers along the edge of the statues.

_Magic is Might_...

Ophelia felt nauseated, seeing the statues of the Muggles, crushed under the weight of their "superiors". She didn't know what to do, but she knew she needed to act fast.

She walked quickly to the nearest lift.

* * *

><p>Ophelia nearly tripped and fell flat on the floor, when she saw Ron Weasley- or, rather, Reggie Cattermole, turn around the corner.<p>

Panicking, Ophelia grabbed a large copy of the _Daily Prophet, _opening it, to mask her face.

The headline read _Severus Snape- New Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry._

Ophelia growled and violently turned the page.

When Ron had left, she silently cursed. He'd headed into Yaxley's office. Now she had no idea where to go. She wiped away the beads of sweat that were forming at the back of her neck, and took a deep breath.

"Excuse me...sir," Ophelia pleaded at a man who was walking by her, "do you know where I might find Yaxley? It's very important."

The man looked to be about fifty years old, with greying hair, and narrowed eyes.

"I'm Yaxley," he grunted, "what do you want?"

Yaxley's eyes wandered, inspecting Ophelia quite thoroughly. His eyes were hungry, and his mouth turned from a scowl into a mischievous smirk. Ophelia shuddered.

"I'm a friend of Snape's," she put, cautiously, "I hoped I might be able to speak with you...alone."

For a moment, she thought Yaxley might laugh in her face and walk away, or see right through her. But his eyes still shone.

"Of course, my dear," he practically purred, gesturing for Ophelia to follow him.

They walked to a different office down the hall.

"Unfortunately, my office is having...difficulties at the moment. I've got Cattermore on it."

Ophelia nodded nervously.

Yaxley pulled out a chair for her, and locked the door. Ophelia gulped.

"Now, what is it you wish to tell me?"

Ophelia had had little time to develop her plan, but she was betting on her ability to improvise.

She hesitated, thinking desperately. She hated herself for even thinking about it, but she could see the way Yaxley was looking at her: like a piece of meat. So she simply crossed her legs, and shuffled in her seat, so that her skirt pulled back slightly.

"I hope you don't mind, I just have a few small questions."

"How do I know your a friend of Snape's? You're not a deatheater, are you?"

"Regrettably, no," Ophelia smiled faintly, drumming her fingers on her thighs, "just a former student of his. Do you need proof?"

"I've got a hearing in twenty minutes...," Yaxley was staring rather intently at Ophelia's legs, "make it quick."

Ophelia suspected he'd need proof, and quickly dug through her purse, taking out the page from _Pride and Prejudice_.

"Send him this," she instructed sweetly, "he'll understand."

Yaxley raised his eyebrows, but took the paper and a sprinkle of floo powder.

Ophelia sat very still as Yaxley engulfed himself in flames, leaving the office.

She could feel her heart pounding against her ribcage, and her hands began to shake. This could go badly wrong.

Mere minutes later, there was the sound of crackling flames, and Yaxley had returned _with _Snape.

Ophelia's stomach flipped. She hadn't expected that to happen.

"As I was saying, the young lady claims to know you," Yaxley was saying.

Ophelia, flustered, stood up, and straightened her skirt.

"Professor Snape," she greeted mildly, "how nice to see you again."

Snape's expression remained his usual look of disinterest, but she could read his beady eyes: he was scared, confused, and angry.

She hoped he could read her eyes too, and see her desperation for him to play along.

"Likewise, I'm sure," he muttered.

"I don't have all bleeding day, Snape," Yaxley spat, "can I trust her?"

Snape hesitated, still staring at Ophelia.

"Yes, of course," he said, "although, I didn't send her. I won't be held responsible for anything she says or does."

There was a silence that clung to the room, and Ophelia thought she might throw up.

Snape let out a strange sound that might have been a chuckle, and Ophelia turned to Yaxley, who began to laugh. Ophelia sighed in relief.

"Fair enough, now get your arse out of here," Yaxley commanded.

Ophelia was experiencing a feeling that reminded her of the first time she'd ever ridden a broomstick.

"Now we're finally alone," Yaxley smirked, leaning against his desk, continuing to stare at Ophelia with sheer desire.

"Excellent," Ophelia adopted her chipper tone again, "now I've actually come to speak about your colleague, Delores Umbridge."

"Go on...," Yaxley was barely listening.

"Yes, well, it's a long story, but I actually believe she has something of mine...a necklace?"

Yaxley nodded distractedly, "so go ask her for it. I'm not a messenger boy."

"It's a delicate matter," Ophelia explained, "I don't want to disturb her, I was only wondering if you might know where she keeps it? It's a rather expensive family heirloom. You understand how it is...," she attempted to appeal to his bigoted side.

"A necklace, eh? She has this dreadful locket she keep around her fat old neck. That might be the one?"

Ophelia grinned.

"Yes, that's the one. She keeps it with her? You don't think she'd have it in her office...?" Ophelia knew that's where Harry would be, looking for it under piles of papers.

"No, she always keeps it with her," Yaxley reassured her, "now is that everything? You just wanted to track down some jewellery?"

Ophelia stuttered, "U-uh yes, well, of course, I wanted to see you as well. I've heard great things of you, from Snape."

"Really?" Yaxley smiled, slicking back his greying hair in pride.

Before Ophelia could register what was happening, Yaxley had pulled Ophelia in and had stuck his tongue in her mouth.

Ophelia squirmed and shoved herself out of the way.

"You've got a hearing, don't you?" She reminded him.

"Ah well," Yaxley shrugged, "I'll get you next time."

"I'm sure you will," Ophelia muttered, wiping the taste of the man from her mouth.

* * *

><p>"Mafalda, how nice to see you," Ophelia greeted Hermione, slinking in next to her friend.<p>

She though Hermione might shriek, but the girl had managed to contain her surprise.

"And you...?" Hermione looked desperately at her friend.

"Marina Turner," Ophelia offered, smiling at Umbridge, who was standing next to Hermione in the lift.

"Right," Hermione muttered.

"And you look lovely, Delores," Ophelia addressed their companion.

"I don't believe we've met," Umbridge said, rather taken aback.

"I'm just a new intern," Ophelia shrugged, "_my_, is that a _necklace _you have there?" Ophelia prompted, widening her eyes at Hermione, "I do love jewellery-would you mind showing me?"

Umbridge hesitated for a moment, but pulled the chain out from under her collar, so that the girls could see it.

Ophelia tutted, "Oh a locket, that's lovely."

"Why thank you."

Ophelia turned to Hermione, giving her friend an innocent smile.

* * *

><p>"LET'S GO!" Harry yelled, grabbing Hermione and Ophelia in his arms and shoving forward through the crowd of people.<p>

They'd grabbed the locket from Umbridge, after stupefying her, and were now rushing to get out of the Ministry.

Ophelia screamed as Yaxley grabbed onto Ron's ankle, and they were swung into the world between destinations.


	7. MK Ultra

"**_Love is our resistance_**

**_They'll keep us apart and they _**

**_won't stop breaking us down_**

**_Hold me_**

**_Our lips must always be sealed"_**

**_-"Resistance", Muse_**

**The Resistance**

**Chapter Seven**

Before Ophelia could process what was happening, she had skidded to a halt on the rough floor of a forest.

Her knees scraped against some scattered stones, and she found herself with a mouth full of dirt.

She sat up, spitting the dirt out and wincing in pain.

It was then that she heard Ron crying out. As a healer, the sound of an injured person sent Ophelia into a panicked frenzy.

She stood up, briskly brushing the dirt and stones out of her knees.

"What's going on?"

Harry had only just sat up, and looked just as dazed as Ophelia.

Hermione was standing over Ron, a frightened look on her face.

"Prop him up," Ophelia murmured, trying to stay calm and reassure her friend.

"Where are we? What's going on?" Harry repeated, standing.

"W-we're in the forest near where the Quidditch World Cup was held," Hermione stuttered, "R-Ron got splinched."

Ophelia made sure Ron was sitting up against the nearest tree, and placed the coat she'd been wearing behind his head.

"He's fainted, but he'll be alright," Ophelia raised her voice. She felt her heart fluttering, but she forced herself to stay on track.

"Keep talking, Hermione," Ophelia ordered, "it'll calm us all down."

Hermione looked desperately at Ron, as though she might start crying.

"_Do it_," Ophelia commanded, with an assertiveness she'd never used before.

"Yaxley grabbed hold of us," Hermione rubbed her hands together nervously, "and we brought him with us! We can't go back to Grimmauld Place."

Ophelia shuddered, thinking of Yaxley, skulking around the place they'd been calling home.

"Hermione, you have essence of dittany, don't you?" Ophelia asked, as she ripped Ron's shirt apart.

Ron, though still unconscious, was losing the effects of the Polyjuice potion. Ophelia ripped Ron's shirt enough to gain access to his arm and shoulder area, where he'd been splinched.

Ophelia shook her head, as Hermione put the essence of dittany in her hand. The damage was bad, but it could be fixed.

"Now, do we have any alcohol?" Ophelia interrupted the hushed discussion Hermione and Harry were having.

"Er- you want a drink?" Harry asked.

Ophelia rolled her eyes- boys could be so daft sometimes.

"Just get me whatever you have!"

"I have some firewhisky...," Hermione searched through her bag, "ah! We have some vodka?"

"Pass it here."

Ophelia grabbed a piece of fabric from Ron's torn shirt, and soaked it in the vodka. Then she pressed down on the wound, cleaning it the best she could.

Ron's eyelids flickered open and he began to hiss in pain.

"It's just a little stinging," Ophelia soothed, "you'll be alright."

Ophelia turned around to find Hermione muttering some protective curses, and Harry setting up their tent.

She steadied her shaking hands and squeezed the stopper of the essence of dittany onto the wound.

"Bloody hell!" Ron shrieked.

"Shhh," Ophelia frowned, and tied the remaining bit of fabric over the wound, "now let's get you a new shirt."

* * *

><p>Tensions were high, and everyone was silent that night. They'd only nibbled on the few wild mushrooms Hermione had found, and clung to their thin sleeping bags, in an attempt to sleep.<p>

Ophelia heard the rhythmic sound of Ron breathing, and she sighed in relief. At least her patient was sound asleep.

She hugged her sleeping bag close and fought back tears. She knew that Harry and Hermione were outside, on watch.

Ophelia felt both physically and mentally drained, and didn't know what to do. Ron might have been saved, but she was the one who had lead him to be injured in the first place.

A pang of guilt thudded in Ophelia's chest. Maybe she had helped her friend to find the locket, but at what cost? They'd almost been caught, and now they had one less place to hide.

She knew the trio weren't happy with her, but were merely repressing their frustration due to their pity. They thought that because she was pregnant, they couldn't yell at her, she supposed.

But how long would it be until they realized that she was more trouble than she was worth? How many days and nights of waiting for Ron to get better would they endure?

How long would it be until this nightmare was finally over?


	8. I Belong to You

"**_Love is our resistance_**

**_They'll keep us apart and they _**

**_won't stop breaking us down_**

**_Hold me_**

**_Our lips must always be sealed"_**

**_-"Resistance", Muse_**

**The Resistance**

**Chapter Eight**

Ophelia groaned and rolled out of bed- or, rather, a cot.

She had a habit for sleeping on the edge of her bed, and falling off as she woke. She lingered on a memory of rolling out of Snape's bed, less than a year ago, and the two laughing over her clumsiness.

She shook the thought away, and wrapped a blanket around her. As she draped it over her shoulders, her hands came to rest on her baby bump. She was five months pregnant now. Her nauseousness had dissipated, but she found herself constantly out of breath.

The others treated her gingerly: constantly taking over her watches early, or giving her extra food- whatever food they had.

But she was not broken- not yet.

In fact, it was the others who had weakened.

Ron was irritable as ever, often complaining about their lack of food, or how uncomfortable his bed was. Ophelia knew he was only whining because he was tired, and in pain.

His arm was healing very slowly, but Ophelia was afraid to speed up the process, for fear of damaging it more.

Meanwhile, Harry kept to himself, and Hermione was running around, doing everything she could to help.

"Shut up, Ron," Hermione barked, in the middle of one of Ron's whinging sessions.

"Harry, what happened? Why do you think you couldn't make your Patronus? You managed perfectly yesterday!"

"I don't know," Harry sighed, and sunk into a chair that had come with their tent.

Harry had been out, scouting a nearby town, when he'd come across some dementors.

"We're all under stress," Ophelia soothed, her eyes shifting from the lines on Harry's forehead, to the pout on Ron's lips.

"It's not that...,"

"Of course!" Hermione suddenly chimed, her eyes gleaming with realization, "the Horcrux!"

"What?"

"Take it off, Harry. I think it's affecting you."

"How so?" Ophelia leaned forward in interest, ignoring Ron kicking the legs of Harry's chair.

"I'm not sure. Maybe it's possessing you?"

"No...Ginny said...well, I'd know, trust me."

There was an empty aching in Harry's eyes when he spoke of Ginny.

"Alright. Well I say we take turns wearing it, just in case," Hermione took the locket from Harry and slung it around her neck. Her eyes lingered on Ophelia.

"Maybe you shouldn't wear it, Ophelia," Hermione suggested carefully.

Ophelia wasn't surprised. This was the way things were now.

"Hermione, really, I'll be fine. The baby's healthy," Ophelia disagreed.

"How do you know?" Ron spoke up, now seemingly interested in the conversation.

"I...," Ophelia's felt her face flush a rosy colour, "I felt it kick. Yesterday."

Ron's pout melted into a grin, and Hermione reached out to touch Ophelia's arm.

"That's wonderful news! Why didn't you tell us?"

"Oh...I, you were on watch," Ophelia lied, smiling graciously at the two.

But, as Ophelia watched Harry slip back outside the tent, she admitted to herself the real reason that she hadn't told them about the baby.

She was terrified, and there was no room for terror in their tent.

* * *

><p>Every day, they went somewhere new: the English countryside, London, by the sea- wherever they could think of.<p>

But they were faced with the same routine, each time. Hermione would set up the protective spells, and Harry and Ron would grudgingly pitch the tent. Ophelia would scout for herbs or other ingredients that could be useful for healing- often, she found nothing.

Ophelia would gently peel back Ron's sling and bandages, and inspect the condition of his arm. It was a slow process, and she hated having to turn to Harry and Hermione, and announce that he wasn't ready yet.

October was upon them before they knew it, and they still hadn't found another Horcrux.

"You can take the sling off now," Ophelia told Ron, one night, that was chillier than usual, "just don't strain your arm."

"Thanks," Ron muttered. He had the locket around his neck, and was certainly hungry, but he had a little patience for Ophelia. Maybe it was because she treated him kinder than Harry and Hermione tended to.

"Do you hear something?"

"What?" Hermione breathed, looking concerned, "I casted Muffilato."

"They can't hear us, but we can hear them," Ophelia announced.

She waddled to sit in a chair, wiping her hand across her forehead. Being six months pregnant, and stuck in a tent with three anxious teenagers, was beginning to exhaust her.

"Get the...," Ophelia took a deep breath, "extendable ears."

She remembered when the Weasley twins had leant her the disgusting tools for spying on Ron and Harry, when they'd been speculating about Snape. They'd been so innocent back then.

Hermione fetched the ears and gave one to Ron and Harry, taking the third for herself.

When they'd finished listening in on the conversation, they were pale-faced and frowning.

They explained to Ophelia that they'd overheard a few Muggle-borns and goblins- on the run from snatchers.

What had perked their ears, was hearing that Ginny Weasley, and a group of other Hogwarts students, had apparently attempted to steal the sword of Gryffindor from Snape's office.

"They did what?" Ophelia blinked, trying to comprehend the information.

"Quick!" Hermione reached into her bag, and dragged out what appeared to be an old picture frame.

"If somebody swapped the real sword for the fake while it was in Dumbledore's office, Phineas Nigellus would have seen it happen, he hands right beside the case!"

"Professor Black?" Hermione cleared her throat, "Please could we talk to you? Please?"

"'Please always helps," a voice sneered, and, suddenly, a face appeared.

"_Obscuro!"_ Hermione cast a spell, so the face was clouded in black fabric.

"I'm very sorry, but it's a necessary precaution."

"We're sorry," Ophelia echoed her friend's words, secretly glad that she didn't have to stare at the sallow face of Phineas Nigellus again.

"Who's there?"

"It doesn't matter," Harry snapped.

"Could that possible be Harry Potter?"

"We have some questions about the sword of Gryffindor."

"Ah yes, that silly girl acted most unwisely-"

"-Shut up about my sister," Ron spoke up. He'd removed his sling, and the horcrux was hidden under his shirt neckline.

"So you've got a Weasley with you?"

"That doesn't matter!," Harry repeated, "now, here's what we want to know..."

* * *

><p>"Harry!" Hermione shouted, "This means-"<p>

"That the sword can destroy Horcruxes!"

The two shouted back and forth, sharing ideas, eyes alit with the thrill of finally getting helpful information.

Ophelia couldn't help but notice that, meanwhile, Ron had slunk back into his cot.

She cleared her throat lightly, and Hermione and Harry followed her gaze back to Ron.

"Well, what do you reckon, Ron?"

Ophelia's stomach did backflips. She could sense an explosion.

"Oh, remembered me, have you?"

"What?"

"Oh nothing, carry on. Ophelia and I have nothing to say."

Ophelia groaned inwardly. He better not drag her into this.

"Well, you've obviously got a problem. Spit it out," Harry approached Ron, his shoulders stiff.

Ron stood, staring Harry right in the eyes.

"All right, I'll spit it out. Don't expect me to skip up and down the tent because there's some other damn thing we've got to find. Just add it to the list of stuff you don't know."

That set Harry off.

"Then GO!" Harry was shouting, every fibre of him aflame with anger.

"Harry-," Hermione was pleading. Her eyes were pooled with tears, and she was furiously glancing back and forth between Harry and Ron.

"Go back to them, pretend you've got over your spattergroit and Mummy'll be able to feed you up and-,"

"That's it then," Ron said through gritted teeth.

"Hermione," he turned to the sobbing girl, "What are you doing?"

"W-what do you mean?" She demanded.

"Are you staying or going?"

"Wha- I...?!" Hermione was speechless.

"Ophelia?"

Ron's eyes bore into Ophelia's, and, for a moment, she wondered if she should leave. She had no future here.

But where would she go? Back to her mother, who would shame her for getting pregnant so young, and to Snape, who she couldn't bare to face.

Or run away with Ron? To where? To what end? What would she do when the baby came?

"Ron, I can't. I made a promise."

Ron nodded stiffly.

"Hermione? This is your last chance."

"Ron! I have to stay, we told Harry we'd help him...," Hermione pleaded.

"I get it," Ron whispered, "You choose him."

With that, Ron vanished.

* * *

><p>That night, Hermione had cried herself to sleep, and Harry lay with the horcrux around his neck, and frown on his sleeping face.<p>

Ophelia had insisted on taking watch. She'd also snuck the photo frame out of Hermione's purse, and brought it with her.

The rhythmic sound of the rain beating against the forest floor made her feel sleepy, but, all the same, she whispered:

"Phineas Nigellus? I need you."


	9. Overture

"**_Love is our resistance_**

**_They'll keep us apart and they _**

**_won't stop breaking us down_**

**_Hold me_**

**_Our lips must always be sealed"_**

**_-"Resistance", Muse_**

**The Resistance**

**Chapter Nine**

**A/N: Like I mentioned in the previous Author's Note: I've made some changes to the story before this, Black Holes and Revelations. After my changes, Ophelia was never a student of Snape's while they were in a relationship. Instead, she was an intern. This means Ophelia is currently nineteen years old in this story, not eighteen. Don't worry, you don't need to reread the story for the rest of this fic to make sense. Just keep that in mind. Thanks!**

"What is it now?" The cold sneer of Phineas Nigellus greeted Ophelia through the concealed photo frame.

Ophelia bit her lip, considering how she should approach the former Headmaster.

"Who is that? Harry Potter? Granger? A Weasley?"

"No," Ophelia took a sharp breath, "it's me, Ophelia Pomfrey. Do you remember me, sir?"

There was a lingering silence, and Ophelia felt a sick feeling in her stomach. Her knees were digging into the gravel under the tent tarp, and the cold was nipping at her exposed skin.

"Ophelia Pomfrey," The old man tasted her name, "the interning healer with a late spell?"

Ophelia raised her eyebrows. The portrait had an excellent memory. It had been more than a year since she'd spoken to him, and she felt nauseous, realizing how much had changed since then.

"Yes," Ophelia attempted to steady her voice and remain calm, "I'm sorry, I can't tell you what's going on, but it's only for our safety."

"Our?" Phineas Nigellus challenged, "are you with Potter and the others?"

"Yes," Ophelia sighed, "and I need your help."

"What could you possibly need me for? I've been dead for longer than you've been alive!"

"I need you to give a message to my mother- the Hogwarts matron. Okay?"

"I'm not a messenger," Phineas huffed.

"Please," Ophelia stifled a sob, "things...things are not going well," a tear ran down her freckled cheek, and Ophelia could no longer hold it together.

"I'm pregnant, and I'm scared. I don't know what to do. I'm too y-young for this," Ophelia was beginning to choke on her sprouting tears.

"You're pregnant?! My, my: things have developed quickly for you," Phineas said. But his voice was softer than usual; maybe even sympathetic.

"What's the message?"

"I need you to tell her that I'm sorry that I haven't talked to her. I'm going to see her very soon, and explain everything," Ophelia sniffled.

"Okay," Phineas sighed, "I will tell her. Is that all? I'd offer you a tissue, but..."

"There's one more thing," Ophelia gulped, "under no circumstances are you to let Severus Snape hear this message, or know that you communicated with me. Do you understand?"

"Yes, alright alright," Phineas sharpened his tone, "goodbye."

"Goodbye," Ophelia whispered.

* * *

><p>Without Ron, things were much more difficult. Hermione clearly found it harder to keep herself together and make decisions. She was emotionally fragile, and often excused herself, to go for a walk, or lock herself in her 'room'.<p>

Harry was angrier, and more irritable than ever. It was much harder to figure things out, with one less person.

Ophelia became more and more useless, as the weeks went by.

November was a dreary and hopeless month. Seven months pregnant, Ophelia waddled around, and helped pitch the tent or prepare the food, but that was it. No matter how much they talked, the trio couldn't seem to think of somewhere else that Voldemort would have stored his horcruxes. Nothing seemed logical.

December brought a chill to their bones, and, suddenly, the warmth of sweaters and a small cook fire, were not enough.

"Hermione," Harry broke the silence one night, as the three huddled close to the fire, looks of sullen defeat on their thinning faces.

"Yeah?" Hermione stifled a yawn and looked to Harry. Her cheek bones were beginning to sharpen.

Even Ophelia was startlingly small for being eight months pregnant, and her eyes were constantly glazed over; thinking of the weeks to come, and what they'd bring.

"I want to go to Godric's Hollow."

Both Ophelia and Hermione directed their gaze at Harry, eyebrows raised in surprise.

Harry flushed, and brushed their shock away.

"Harry," Ophelia began, though quite exhausted, "it's not safe..."

"Wait," Hermione interrupted gently, "I think we should go. Harry's right?"

Ophelia was too tired to argue, so she merely tilted her head as a gesture of confusion.

"I mean, I can't think of anywhere else it could be. It'll be dangerous, yes," Hermione nodded at Ophelia, "but the more I think about it, the more likely it seems it's there."

"What's there?" Harry prompted.

"Well, the sword, Harry! Dumbledore must have known you'd want to go back there. I mean, Godric's Hollow is Godric Gryffindor's birthplace. What better place for his sword?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded, "I guess we're going then."

"I guess we are."

* * *

><p>Harry and Hermione had used Polyjuice Potion to disguise themselves as a middle-aged Muggle couple. Ophelia had, by default, been adopted into their fake family as their fake pregnant daughter.<p>

_I'm a disappointment, no matter where I go_, Ophelia thought to herself.

As they trekked through the small community of Godric's Hollow, a gentle snowfall greeted them. The flakes kissed Ophelia through the fabric of the floral dress she was wearing.

It was refreshing, if a bit inconvenient. She'd missed the snow.

Ophelia was, suddenly, swept off to another time. _She'd been sitting on the beach of the Dark Lake, drawing lines in the sand with an old stick. The snow had fallen softly, clinging to the ground, and building white mountains. She'd felt a chill grab hold of her._

_Then she'd spotted something rather odd: Snape, stumbling through the snow, with test tubes and containers in his hands._

_A smile had made its way onto her face, and she'd felt a light fluttery feeling. She'd stood, and walked over to the man, who would one day break her heart._

"Ophelia?" Hermione pushed her friend back into the present.

"Yes, sorry," Ophelia muttered, "I'm ready."

"Oh Merlin," Hermione whispered, as the snow crunched under her feet, and they made their way into the heart of the town, "I think it's Christmas Eve."

Ophelia gasped. Had December really passed so quickly? Her baby could come anytime in the next two weeks or so.

They passed an old church, and heard the faint singing that came with Christmas Eve. Hermione came to an abrupt halt, and Ophelia and Harry questioned their friend.

"Your mother and father would be in there, wouldn't they?" Hermione whispered, nodding at the graveyard, a few feet away.

Ophelia hadn't noticed the graveyard until just now. The tombstones, covered in a light dust of snow, looked hauntingly beautiful.

"Hermione," Harry muttered, "we don't have to..."

"No," Ophelia spoke up, "we _do._"

* * *

><p>Hermione and Harry had paid their respects to the Potters, and had moved on to inspecting a nearby set of graves that had peaked their interest.<p>

Ophelia knelt, as painful as it was for her, and ran her hang along the lines of the tombstone.

_The last enemy that shall be destroyed is death_, Ophelia read. Initially, she wrinkled her nose in disgust at how morbid their final saying to the world was. But she read it a few more times, and realized that it was one of the most comforting things she'd ever heard.

_Lily Potter_

_30 January, 1960- 31 October, 1981_

"Lily," Ophelia whispered to herself.

She took out her wand and conjured up a single white rose, which she placed next to Hermione's wreath.

"What a beautiful name."

**A/N: I think there is something wrong with me! I keep posting such short chapters! Ah- I'm sorry! But I hoped you liked it, and are looking forward to the next chapter, which will be much longer and more eventful :)**


	10. Cross-Pollination

**"Love is our resistance**

**They'll keep us apart and they**

**won't stop breaking us down**

**Hold me**

**Our lips must always be sealed"**

**-"Resistance", Muse**

**The Resistance**

**Chapter Ten**

**A/N: Hey there! Sorry for the late update, I've been so busy! Enjoy! (and please continue with your lovely reviews, I love you guys!) Btw: this is the second last chapter of this story, and then I'll be creating a third fic :-)**

"Harry!" Hermione suddenly hissed, "look over there."

Subtly, Hermione nodded toward the other entrance to the cemetery. Harry and Ophelia followed their friend's gaze, to find the figure of an old woman, eyeing them with interest.

Ophelia felt a shiver overtake her, and placed her hand, protectively over her baby bump.

"Is she looking at us?" Ophelia whispered. She knew the answer to her question, but hoped that Hermione might lie to her, and tell her that it would all be alright. Ophelia needed to hear that.

The old woman nudged slightly, in the direction of the cobbled street behind her, as if she wanted them to follow her.

Ophelia got to her feet, with difficulty, and brushed the snow off of her knees.

"I think we should follow her," Harry breathed.

"Harry...I don't think-,"

"Hermione, if we don't do this, we may never find the sword. This woman knows something, I can feel it."

Although Ophelia was extremely wary of the hunched figure, she silently agreed that they might have to take this risk. Their search was going nowhere.

Hobbling alongside Harry and Hermione, Ophelia set after the old woman, a feeling of fear deeply embedded in her chest.

As they drew nearer, Harry spoke up.

"Are you Bathilda?" he prompted.

Ophelia supposed he meant Bathilda Baggshot, the famed historian.

The woman neither agreed nor disagreed, but merely encouraged them to follow her further.

They reached a house with a foul smell, and she paused to unlock the door.

The trio exchanged a look, but silently recognized that they needed to follow her.

They entered the house, only to find that the smell was persistent.

"I know it's not just my heightened senses," Ophelia muttered to Hermione, "it smells like rot."

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but was silenced by a sharp look from Harry.

Under the light of their wands, they could see that the house had certainly been abandoned. Books and various other objects were strewn around the house, lamps were knocked over, and there was a thick layer of dust over all the cabinets.

Ophelia stopped to inspect a book she'd trodden on: _Magic Herbs of Northern Ireland_. She was almost tempted to open it, when she was perturbed by speckles of what she suspected to be dried blood, and carefully placed the book back on the floor.

"Harry, wait-," Hermione protested, as Harry set off up the stairs, after the old woman.

"It'll be fine," Harry reassured, and disappeared around the corner.

Hermione gulped, and continued to look through the house.

"Hermione," Ophelia spoke softly, "I don't think this woman is...all there."

"She's certainly left her house to ruins," Hermione agreed, perusing the shelves of a wayside bookshelf.

"Look," Hermione muttered, picking up a copy of a large pink volume. Ophelia reached for the other copy.

_The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore_, it read.

Hermione heaved the cover open, sending out a flurry of dust, and the two began to flip through the pages.

Ophelia rolled her eyes at the propaganda that Rita Skeeter seemed to spew out like a paper mill.

Ophelia had never had a personal connection with Dumbledore, and she certainly had her suspicious. But ever since...that night, she felt a painful sense of guilt and horror when she thought of his lifeless body, falling from the tower.

_Work Colleagues_

Ophelia frowned as she read the heading of a chapter, toward the middle of the book.

_Albus Dumbledore, despite his secrets, managed to make a fair amount of friends throughout his career at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Some say he only managed to procure the job as Transfiguration Professor because Armando Dippet was a family friend of the Dumbledores'..._

Ophelia skimmed past a few paragraphs about Dumbeldore's relationships with the professors at Hogwarts, many years ago.

But she managed to find what she was looking for, and dreading.

He had his own heading.

_Severus Snape._

_Perhaps one of the most complicated relationships of all, aside from his with Potter or Grindewald, was the relationship between the headmaster his most trusted professor. Severus Snape attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry from the years 1971-1978, under the reign of Albus Dumbledore._

_Did Dumbledore's mysterious ways and connection to the dark arts, intrigue the young Snape? Perhaps. For Snape returned in 1981, to take the position of Potions Professor and Head of Slytherin House. Dumbledore clearly trusted Snape enough to leave him with such a high position._

_But the intricacies of what existed between Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape remain unknown to us. Were the two like-minded wizards planning something evil? Was Snape always eager to overthrow his employer?_

_All we know is that Albus Dumbeldore fell from the Astronomy Tower last June: the result of the murderous Severus Snape's work._

_Was Severus Snape an ambitious monster, or possibly a misunderstood soul, who saw Dumbledore for who he really was?_

Ophelia felt bile rise in her throat, and, suddenly, found herself throwing the book across the room with as much force as possible, tumbling over some empty bottles.

"Ophelia!" Hermione hissed. But Ophelia's friend held back any other words, reading the pain in Ophelia's face.

Ophelia stubbornly wiped away the tears that were building in her eyes.

"We need to leave," Ophelia decided, with a sniff, "something's not right."

"Harry!?" Hermione called up the stairs, her voice quivering with concern, "HARRY!?"

Hermione grabbed hold of Ophelia's hand, and they slowly made their way up the stairs.

"NO!" Harry screamed.

"Harry, what's going-?" Harry shrieked as a monstrous python snapped at her. She shoved Ophelia and herself against the wall, sliding down and just missing the snake's fangs.

Hermione grabbed Harry, and the trio held tight to each other.

* * *

><p>It took all of Ophelia's will to steady her hand, as she rubbed the sterilized cloth against Harry's forearm.<p>

"Wh-What?" Harry snapped awake, sliding out of his cot, "what's going on? We got away?"

Ophelia cooed incoherent reassurances, as she persistently cleaned his wound. But Harry would not be soothed into silence.

"Hermione?"

"Yes, we got out," Hermione whispered, her eyes searing into the floor, "only just."

"What was wrong with me? Was I unconscious?"

Hermione gaped.

"I-I don't know Harry: not quite. You were rolling around and moaning. It was like you were possessed."

Harry turned desperately back to Ophelia, in need of a diagnosis.

Ophelia sighed and shook her head, as she re-bandaged Harry's snake bite.

"It was the horcrux," Ophelia tired to explain, "Hermione had to use a searing charm to get it off you."

Harry sat up and inspected the mark where the locket had lain against his chest.

There was an unsettling silence.

"Well...where to next, then?" Harry huffed.

Hermione moved closer to her friend, and the two began to talk of their plans.

Meanwhile, Ophelia stood, brushed her hands against her dress, and walked over to the fire.

"I'm leaving," she said, to no one in particular.

Harry and Hermione looked up; shocked.

"I can't stay here any longer. The baby could come any week- any day- now."

"We...we knew you couldn't stay with us forever," Hermione admitted, "but...it's so strange to hear it now."

Ophelia felt a fluttering in her chest. Did they finally see her value?

"Where are you going?" Harry inquired, "you could go to the Weasleys. They'd keep you and the baby safe."

Ophelia shook her head.

"I'm going to Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts!" Hermione protested, "but...Snape's there."

"I know," Ophelia practically spat, "but so is my mother. I need this, Hermione. I need to know that things will be okay. Being with my mother might be the closest thing I get to that."

"But...," Hermione trailed off, "after you have the baby...what will you do? Will we see you again?"

Ophelia took a deep breath.

"I don't know."

**A/N: Next chapter is an exciting chapter, look forward to it! Also please review!**


	11. Redemption

"_**Love is our resistance**_

_**They**__**'**__**ll keep us apart and they **_

_**won**__**'**__**t stop breaking us down**_

_**Hold me**_

_**Our lips must always be sealed"**_

_**-"Resistance", Muse**_

The Resistance

Chapter Eleven

**A/N:Thanks for your patience, guys! School has been hectic for me! Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this chapter!**

Ophelia awoke just as the sun peaked through the trees, hitting the top of the their tent.

She stood, with great difficulty, her breath heavy and flawed, as she moved to her bag. She bent, wincing in pain, and secured her clothes, books, and herbs. She slung the bag across her shoulder.

Hermione and Harry were still asleep. Last night had been an emotionally taxing night. Harry was still recovering from the effects of the horcrux, as well as the snake bite. Hermione, meanwhile, had stayed up nearly all night, her nose buried in a pile of books.

"Merlin bless her," Ophelia muttered. Her hand traveled to her stomach. She would miss them, deeply.

"But it's for the best," she assured herself aloud.

She took one last glance at her sleeping friends, nodded to herself, and walked through the tent flap.

"Goodbye," she whispered, and apparated into the thin, cold, air.

* * *

><p>When Ophelia's feet landed with a crunch on the fresh layer of snow that covered Hogsmeade Village<p>

She was greeted by the shrill sound of the Caterwauling Charm, and she pressed her hands against her ears, hoping to silence the shrieking alarm. Her senses were heightened, especially at this stage in her pregnancy.

She stood, patiently, her arms wrapped around her baby bump.

"You have nothing to be afraid of," she said to both her, and her baby.

Three death eaters ran around the corner, nearly slipping in the snow.

"What's the meaning of this?" One demanded of her, while the other made to grab her hand.

Stubbornly, Ophelia pulled away. They were not going to touch her.

"I've just apparated here. Is there a law against that?"

"Yes, actually," a death eater growled, "unless you state your business."

"I'm here to visit my mother," Ophelia explained, cautiously, "I'm pregnant, as you can see, and I require her medical attention."

The death eaters seemed rather surprised at such a convincing, precise, answer.

"Who's your mother?"

"Poppy Pomfrey," Ophelia's hands remained around her stomach. She was exhausted, but she would persist.

"Please, just let me get to the school. I have enough to worry about, as it is."

"Blood status?"

Ophelia frowned.

"I don't see how that's relevant. But, if you must know, I'm pure blood. I was a Ravenclaw."

"And the baby?" The death eater closest to her prompted.

"What of it?" Ophelia felt her heart begin to batter against her ribcage. Her insides were chaotic, rebelling against her.

"What's it's blood status?"

"Half blood," Ophelia tasted the words, "like they're father."

The death eaters exchanged a glance, as if coming to a silent decision.

"Alright, but you'll be escorted to the castle, and Pomfrey will be subject to an interrogation."

"Fair enough," Ophelia muttered. Talking was becoming harder and harder for her.

"Let's just be quick about it, shall we?"

Although they were her escorts, Ophelia lead the way. She walked at a brisk pace, for her condition, with a determined view of the path ahead of her. She wanted to get to her mother, and feel safe again. She couldn't wait much longer. The baby could be due any day.

There was also the matter of Snape. She refused to run into him.

"We really should talk to Snape about this, shouldn't we?" One death eater was saying to the other.

Ophelia pretended she couldn't hear them, but she frowned as she caught what they were saying.

"It's not a big deal," The other death eater dismissed, "I'm not going to him for _every_ bleedin' thing. Just because he's headmaster, doesn't mean he's the boss. I mean, not in the long run, right?"

"Whatever," his companion scowled, "I'm not taking the blame for this."

"Come on boys," Ophelia huffed through her panting, "let's get this over with."

The death eaters looked as though they might reprimand her, but thought better of it, and quickened their pace to catch up with her.

As Ophelia saw the familiar sight of the Hospital Wing, she felt both relieved and nauseous.

She used all her strength to haul open the heavy stone doors- receiving no help from her company, and looked on in horror.

She'd never seen the Infirmary so full. Every bed was occupied, and there were a few makeshift cots here and there.

The students of Hogwarts didn't look sick or indisposed, they looked…_injured_.

"Yes, yes, what is it?" The unforgettable snip of Ophelia's mother, came from by one of the beds.

Poppy Pomfrey looked up from her ministrations, and her mouth dropped open.

"Ophelia?"

Ophelia swallowed the well of tears and pain building up in her.

"Yes."

"You're…you're…"

"Exhausted," Ophelia forced an airy laugh, "quite right. I could use a rest. How about I just go to your office, and you talk with these gentleman," she gestured at the death eaters, "they have a few questions for her."

Before her mother could protest, Ophelia scurried off to her mother's office, where she'd slept, only six months ago.

She sunk into the cot, which she'd once called home, and choked back tears.

"It's okay, it's okay, it's okay," she muttered to herself, over and over again, until she sunk into the world of the unawake.

* * *

><p>"Ophelia, Ophelia dear?"<p>

Ophelia groaned, and propped herself up.

She thought she must be dreaming, when the figure of her mother stood before her. Then she remembered. This wasn't a dream: it was a nightmare, and it would never end.

"I'm up," she rubbed groggily at her eyes.

"I talked to those death eaters, they're gone now. I guess you can see what condition the school is in now. Now that _that man_ is in charge."

Ophelia ignored the last comment.

"Yeah," she gulped, "I've never seen so many injured people. What's going on?"

The matron hesitated, then fidgeted with her hand.

"Listen, this isn't important right now. I need to know why you went to stay with the Weasleys, and came back to my doorstep…_pregnant_."

"But I want to know what's going on," Ophelia persisted.

"I think I need to know what's going on, first," Her mother was growing impatient, "who's the father? Why are you in this situation? I thought you were smarter than this! And…why didn't you tell me?!"

Ophelia began to sprout tears, and she fought to get her words out.

"No! No! No! I won't be interrogated like this! And-and I want to know why all these children are hurt, and I want to know-,"

She cut herself off, chocking on her words and her tears.

"Oh dear," her mother put a hand on her daughter's back, "you're hysterical. You need to get some food. We'll talk later."

Ophelia sniffed sharply, dragging the sleeve of her dress across her nose.

"I-I just really want some blackberry jam," she whimpered pathetically.

"I know you do, dear."

* * *

><p>It wasn't until Ophelia had been brought down to the kitchen's to eat, and her eyes spotted some Christmas lights, the house elves had strung here and there, that she realized that today was Christmas Day.<p>

After she'd eaten enough food for three elephants, she walked over to the lights, running her fingers along each colour. White, yellow, red, green, pink.

She'd never been a fan of Christmas. She closed her eyes, and drew herself away, to a simpler time.

"_What__'__s this one, Mrs. Weasley?__" __Ophelia showed her the parcel which only read: __**To Ophelia Pomfrey, The Burrow, Ottery St Catchpole, Devon, England.**_

"_That arrived by owl this morning, no indication of who it__'__s from, I__'__m afraid.__"_

_Ophelia thanked her and shrugged, opening it anyway._

_Removing a few layers of packaging, she found it was a jar of homemade blackberry jam. _

_She raised her eyebrows, inspecting it._

_She knew exactly who it was from, and smiled secretly to herself. Of course he wouldn__'__t label it, for he wasn__'__t sure why he was giving her the gift in the first place, and didn__'__t want to be accountable for it._

"_Happy Christmas,__" __she muttered to the jam jar, thinking that Snape was probably pacing his quarters, wishing he could take the present back. But she didn__'__t care. It was the thought that counted._

"Ophelia? Let's get some sleep, hmm?"

Sleep sounded perfect. Ophelia only wondered if she'd be able to achieve it.

* * *

><p>The next few days, Ophelia helped her mother out with light activities, that involved little movement or talking.<p>

She'd help organize the herbs, or change the chamber pots. Whatever it took to avoid talking to her mother about her pregnancy.

"You're sure you're okay with that?" Her mother clucked, as Ophelia lifted a large box full of healing supplies.

"It's not that heavy," Ophelia brushed her mother's concern away, "just big. Where am I bringing this to, again?"

"Just the medical closet on the second floor."

Ophelia wobbled as she walked, looking like an awkward duck. But she had a good grip on the box. It felt good to be helpful again, instead of feeling like a useless balloon.

Luckily, she hadn't run into anyone she knew. All the students walked briskly in the hallways, not socializing or even holding eye contact with each other. So, even if someone had recognized Ophelia, they hadn't acted on it.

"Ophelia?" A voice whispered from behind her.

She stopped walking, and manoeuvred her body in the direction of the voice. A chill overtook her, and she suddenly wished she had her old agility back. She wished she could run, and never stop.

"What are you doing here? I didn't think…," Snape looked both horrified and overjoyed. It did not become him.

"I've got to go…," Ophelia muttered, "this has to go to the medical closet on the second floor."

"Can't we talk?" Snape hissed, "please? There's so much we have to discuss."

"No," Ophelia shook her head firmly.

Then she frowned. Snape was clearly desperate to talk to her, but why hadn't he commented on…

She looked down at her stomach, and raised her eyebrows. The box. The box had somehow covered her sufficiently enough. He didn't know.

"No," Ophelia repeated herself, "I have nothing to say to you."

She turned and marched forward, not once looking back.

* * *

><p>"Ophelia, what took you so long, are you alright?" Her mother fluttered around Ophelia like a flustered hen.<p>

"I'm fine," Ophelia growled. She was not usually this aggressive.

"I just feel a little…a little faint."

She took a moment to lean her weight against the posts of a nearby cot. She breathed in and out, but she still felt as though, somehow, she was melting away.

The melting began to feel like much more of a reality, when…

"Ophelia!" Her mother cried, "your water just broke!"

**A/N: Aha! Left you at a cliffhanger, didn****'****t I? I know, I****'****m just evil. There will be an epilogue, and then this story will be over. But don****'****t worry, there will be a third story to follow. Look for those updates soon, and PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE review!**


	12. The Resistance

"_**Love is our resistance**_

_**They**__**'**__**ll keep us apart and they **_

_**won**__**'**__**t stop breaking us down**_

_**Hold me**_

_**Our lips must always be sealed"**_

_**-"Resistance", Muse**_

The Resistance

Epilogue

**A/N: Alright: here it is! The final chapter of 'The Resistance'! I hope you enjoy it! There will be a link to the third instalment soon.**

**_Warning: This chapter contains some upsetting content. I don__'__t want to spoil it, but I will just say that if you feel that you will be triggered by anything to do with pregnancy or childbirth, please tread carefully._**

**_Also, I__'__ve never given birth or been present at a birth, so this is likely incredibly inaccurate. For that, I apologize. _**

"What do I do? What do I do?" Ophelia whimpered.

"Deep breaths," Her mother put her hands on Ophelia's arms, "you know this, you're going to be fine."

"We're just going to go for a walk," her mother continued her attempt to sooth her daughter. Poppy Pomfrey had never had the softest voice- she'd always been quick to snap at her daughter, but now she'd harnessed all her love for Ophelia, in order to calm her.

The matron looped her arm through her daughter's and eased her to her feet, forcing her to walk around the hospital wing with her.

Ophelia was practically dragging her feet, and howling with pain.

"Why are we doing this?"

"Because it eases the pain from the contractions," The matron tutted, as if she expected her daughter to know better.

Ophelia couldn't really be blamed for not thinking straight. She was, after all, in immeasurable pain.

She let out another grunt as she squeezed her eyes shut and nearly buckled to her knees.

"Just keep going," her mother muttered.

"I hate him, I hate him," Ophelia hissed, her eyes glazed over. All she could think of was an image of her storming over to Snape's office, slamming open the door, and strangling him with her bare hands.

Poppy Pomfrey had no idea who the baby's father was, but, all the same, she nodded her weary head.

"I know, darling."

* * *

><p>Severus Snape sat at his desk, fiercely drumming his fingers against a pile of papers he had to mark.<p>

Every time he made a move to begin marking the essays he'd been presented with, his fingers began to shake, and he found he couldn't focus.

There was too much stress for Snape to handle. He had been promoted to Headmaster of Hogwarts, which meant that he was responsible for the entire school. He'd fixed that problem easily enough: he'd hired the Carrow siblings to deal with discipline. It might not have been the most morally sound idea, but he knew they would make sure he'd have no problems.

But there was so much else to deal with- such a bigger picture to focus on. And then there was…something else.

Next to the pile of papers was an old torn-up leather-bound copy of _Pride and Prejudice_.

He hadn't opened it in months.

Carefully, he lifted open the cover, staring at the first page. Normally, this page would be left blank, but two different styles of cursive writing were scrawled across the page.

Back when they were happy together, Ophelia and Snape had made a game out of taking turns quoting the book; a sort of secret language used to convey their feelings for each other.

Snape recognized his own heavy penmanship. He'd written: "There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or sense." He'd added: You are the exception.

At the top of the page, Ophelia's very first comments wrenched at Snape's heart. He remembered when he'd read them for the first time.

"_Do not consider me now as an elegant female intending to plague you, but as a rational creature speaking the truth from her heart.__" _

"_I have not the pleasure of understanding you.__" _

_But__… __"__You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.__"_

At the very bottom of the page, Snape had written something. He'd written it about a month after she'd left him. He knew she'd never read it, but he'd written it all the same.

"Our scars make us know that our past was for real".

Snape slammed the book shut.

* * *

><p><em>Ophelia was sitting on the ledge of a cliff, while a crashing sea accosted the shores below her. She thought it might have been the beach she<em>_'__d visited when she was a little girl. _

_As Ophelia turned to her left, she found that Albus Dumbledore was sitting at her side. She widened her eyes in shock, but did nothing more than stare._

"_I__'__m sorry,__" __Ophelia finally choked out. She didn__'__t what else she could possibly say to the man. _

_Dumbledore turned his head in the opposite direction._

"_You__'__ll be alright,__" __he murmured, __"__you both will be.__"_

_Another wave crashed, and Ophelia plummeted off the cliff._

Ophelia awoke on the cot in her mother's office. She groaned, and sat up. Her first instinct, after running a hand through her matted blonde hair, was to lower her hand to her stomach.

That was when she remembered. She snapped open the office door and, wobbling with the feeling of her new weight, approached her mother.

The matron was looking over a clipboard, when Ophelia clamped her hand on her wrist. Her mother looked up.

"Oh…," she breathed, "you're awake."

"Yeah," Ophelia stared blankly, "I am."

"Ophelia, dear, we need to talk…," the matron made to move, but Ophelia had locked her grip.

"What happened?" Ophelia's words were cool and haunting, but she somehow knew the answer.

"After the delivery…you were hysterical. I had to sedate you."

"Why was I hysterical?" Ophelia fought back tears.

"The baby didn't make it."

Ophelia's hands began to shake, and her grip on her mother loosened.

"Why?"

"These things can happen…it…I don't know what you were doing while you were gone."

Ophelia gasped, and her knees finally did buckle. She felt the cold stone floor beneath her.

**A/N: OKAY SO PLEASE DON****'****T YELL AT ME! I know this is a VERY sad ending, and I am just evil for making Ophelia lose the baby. I apologize if this upset you (although I did put a warning at the beginning of the chapter). Don****'****t worry- there WILL be happiness for Ophelia and Snape, just not right away. Anyway, I****'****m sorry for the long wait, but I****'****ve had a lot going on. The link for the third instalment of this series will be up soon! Any questions/comments/reviews/etc. would be loved!**


	13. Message Re: Sequel

Hey, check out the sequel to The Resistance!

It's called Showbiz, and you can either find it by going to my profile, or by visiting this link:

**s/10902197/1/showbiz**

(put "fanfiction . net" in front of it)

Anyway, I'm looking forward to continuing this story and hearing more from my lovely readers, so read, review, suggest ideas, and share this story with your friends!

Thank you!


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